Alley Rum

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Feeling that I might have been stretching the friendship of my Dad's best mate's second cousin; James and his wife, Sheree, I was all too thankful to meet up with Hannah and her Brother, Sam after work for a quick catch up.

After pleasantries were exchanged and a brief summary on my current living arrangements (which I might add have been fabulous, if permitted I would have been more than happy to live with James and Sheree the entire time whilst in London) we took up to meet their American flight attendant cousin who was having a stop over.

Yes, he was gay - sorry to stereo type, but what male flight attendant is not... either they are an over the top personality proving their gayness (because the bleached hair and limp wrist were not enough) or they are in the closet. I would just like to point out at this point that I have many gay friends and love them all dearly... this man in question was nothing short or a gentleman.

So... the three of us headed off to dinner, we went to an very popular Italian restaurant which was in an area much like Lygon St in Melbourne, so popular in fact that we needed to wait and hour and a half for a table... what to do during this time... off to the pub! (Whose suggestion was this we wonder?)

London pubs, I was delighted to find out, offer wine not only by the glass, but in glass sizes... small or large. Large Please! Excellent. By the time our dinner was ready I was on my merry way.

Lots of slurring, and 2 bottles of wine later dinner was over, I remember vaguely having the cannelloni, which was probably good.

Hannah and the cousin had to return home, Sam and I, the inner city slickers thought it would be a great idea to push on back to the pub. Shots, why not!? By now, the fact that I had only just finished my second day of work a few hours ago was irrelevant (did I mention this was a Wednesday night? Perhaps a Friday would have been better, but not as exciting as you will see), by this stage wine was beginning to bore me, with a full belly of a liquid diet and generosity burning through my Australian debit card, slippery nipples were the go, Oh, and we had a shot too ( ;

Time was not a factor, we were asked to leave and realised we were the last ones slumping. Now a sensible person would have thought this the most appropriate time to head home, and slam a Gatorade. If any of you had ever had a drink or few with me before, you would know better.

The shut pubs were seen more as a challenge than a deterrent. A sleazy liquor store, and bottle or rum and two cola's later there I was.

Use your imagination...

Work skirt suit, orange converse shoes, rum, alley.

We were in fine form, how much of the rum was consumed will remain a mystery to me. We must have been fairly rowdy as we were interrupted by a local tenant. How rude.

A bus ride fades in and out of my memory and, I was woken by my alarm a few short moments later with the taste of homeless men desiccating in my mouth.

Where the fuck am I?

Oh, hello Sam, who was rather nicely snuggled around me.. hmmmmm, a quick peek under the covers, bra. Check. Knickers. Check. I was reassured that I had maintained slight dignity. We had a bit of a laugh and I caught the train of shame home looking at all the lovely dressed Londoners on their way to work, who were doing their best to keep 10 feet away from the girl who smelt like a brewery.

Quick change at James and Sheree's (who commented I was a chip off the old block) and off to work.
WORK WAS SHIT

10.30am.... yep.... I can feel it..... I can feel that Berocca that I foolishly used as a band aid solution... yep, here it comes, and there it goes. All. Over. The. Porcelain. Bus.

Nothing like making a great first impression.

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