Wow... I’m drunk for what seems like the first time in ages, and I feel fine! Tonight I went to Jim’s 25th party. The first email said “Party Saturday in Doncaster!”. The second email said “The party’s on Friday now!”. The third email said “Oh, and it’s in Fairfield now!”. This didn’t worry me because from a public transport viewpoint Fairfield is significantly easier to get to than Doncaster. So I decided against going home and cooking after work; instead I swam and went to the really cheap Chinese place, after which I got the train to the 8pm party. Arriving at 8:50pm I was first there by a long way, and settled down with a drink and chatted with Jim. Jim’s in the band, but I rarely see him, so it was good to catch up.

After a while all his cousins started arriving. Jim has lots of cousins, but he didn’t know about any of them until a couple of years ago. Now he sees a lot of them, and they were all at the party. I chatted to them briefly, meeting a boy called Tiff (the same name as my ex-girlfriend, sounding slightly more respectable as a boy’s name than Tiff) and Jim’s drummer friend, for whom I’m developing more and more respect.

Just as I was reconciling myself to meeting new people, Robyn and Jane turned up from the choir I used to sing with. Robyn is lovely and has the most beautiful voice, and Jane is a theatre chick with a vengeance, so we had some great conversations. At one point Robyn pointed out her bony wrists, and I said her boyfriend would find them cute, which would have been the classic ploy to find out if she had a boyfriend or not, if this had been relevant to me. As it turned out, she doesn’t (Lord knows how), so I made a point of mentioning my new girlfriend a little later to make sure she didn’t get the wrong idea. As if I wasn’t way too old for her anyway... Jane had such cleavage that I had to consciously look at her face (Molly knows where I’m coming from here).

Then Robyn and Jane said they were thinking of kicking on at the pub and would I like to come... even the new Josquin couldn’t resist an invitation to the pub with two gorgeous girls. Before we left I demonstrated my paltry repertoire of dance moves to Robyn— is there anyone who doesn’t do ballroom dancing these days. I was all pumped up for a big night by the time we got to the pub, but Henry and Carly (very tired from her 40-hour week) turned up too. They went home, and so did everyone.

Yesterday afternoon I saw Marion after uni. We went to the station together, and I took the escalator step below her, which gave us a perfect opportunity for a pash. Normally, unless she’s wearing her super-sexy knee-high high-heeled boots she’s quite small, so I see a lot of her forehead, and I imagine she sees a lot of my chin. Which makes an escalator a perfect height-equaliser. Remembering that still makes me break out in a smile.

It seems an indignant Oliphant Chuckerbutty signed my guestbook and berated me for making fun of his name. Strangely enough, it seems (from the time of the note and the IP address from stats) that Oliphant (1884-1960) is staying with the one and only HissandTell. Please send Wilson Oliphant Soorjo Alexander Chuckerbutty my apologies, Hiss, and tell him that I’ll never giggle at his name again.

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by .

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