Midget kicking a hobo

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On Guy Fawkes night my sister Jaimee decided to have a shin dig at her apartment. My flatties (excluding Nic who was up north for her friends birthday, and Jess who was out galavanting or shopping) came too. We also dragged along our 8th flat mate Nadine who was dosing on our couch for a month or so. Nadine is from Palmy North where I grew up so we had lots of good yarns about people we knew, and are still contemplating starting a campaign to make Palmerston North the new capital of New Zealand.

Anyway we took the bus to Hammersmith and then walked to Jaimee’s flat. I am only mentioning this part as something strange happened. We were walking through a busy underpass and were all talking. Debra wasn't looking where she was walking. A hobo was sitting cropped up against one of the walls. Yip, thats right Debra ended up kicking him. It’s not every day you see a 5 foot girl kick a hobo! I was amused, the hobo was shocked or drunk, either way he didn’t chase her.

The whole party walked to a local park to check out the fireworks. We watched the fireworks and then walked from the park back to the party. Sorry nothing eventful happened.

I stayed on while the flatties all piked and went home early. It was a good night, I yarned to some random dudes who work on an oil rig off Scotland, an aussie who was hitting on every girl at the party and an indian guy working at the store over the road, I don't think he was really listening though. I decided it would be a mission getting home so crashed on the couch.

What I forgot to mention is that my flat mates had gone home early from the party as they had planned a Sunday drinking session at the church. Therefore I woke up bleary eyed, trained home, met them at the front gate and went straight out again. Half an hour later I was drinking again, nothing like the hair of the dog that bit you! We were at the church for a friends birthday and had dressed up 80's style. Well except for Lisa, she often dresses like this.

Four hours later after watching comedians, strippers, drinking races and some outlandish dancing (mostly from Andre) the church had closed and we were starving. Curry sounded like heaven so we went to Brick Lane, if there was a heaven for curry eaters it would be here. It is an area of London where there are just curry house after curry house and a few closed down laundromats that will soon be turned into curry houses. Hopefully they will change their washing machines for ovens. I wonder if anyone has tried cooking curry in a washing machine? Anyway I digress; we had a curry, came home and I was checking my eyelids for holes before my head hit the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

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