Party 1, Friday, 19h30
Location: Killarney Golf Club
Dress code: black tie
Occasion: 95th birthday party
Wow. Not many people get to go to 95th's, let's not jest. I scrubbed up all elegant and joined Big T to this lady's birthday bash. What an amazing woman she is. Sharp as knife, parties like she's 30 (apparently was still going strong at 1:30am, about the time I – the party pooper – was long asleep). Champagne was flowing, my dress was falling down, everything was beautiful. And on the opposite side of the social spectrum, we have:
Party 2, Saturday 7ish
Location: A digs
Dress code: chav, minger, pikey, asbo
Occasion: digs party
When it says 'dress up party,' I either go balls to the wall or don't dress up at all. Klo stuffed a pillow into her belly (and needed to pee every five seconds....it was, like, she was hexperiencing a real pregnancy, which is well bad); I looked like I'd stepped out of a council house in Croydon.
Then the unthinkable happened. We arrived, and nobody had really dressed up.
Klo freaked out at the gate, “Oh my God...please take me home, oh my God.”) I felt a bit stupid, since I'd insisted that we could go all out on the pikey look, because “of course everyone will dress up.” So we just got absolutely smashed, and luckily the chavs started emerging later on.
Big T was wearing a rather large price tag on his cap, and waltzing around with a bottle of cognac.
I fell on the driveway. Blind one.
Me and the aeroplane guy (who now has a name: Mr 747. On mutual assessment) went through MacDonalds on the way home and ordered like 8 cheeseburgers.
Then once home, we played a bit of Monster Hits, then I got carried to bed, while he wore one of my jerseys. Bless his little tracky pants.
I haven't done a consecutive triple napover in a long time.
Went to see the Lion King at the Vulgar Tuscan Palace with my folks. It was absolutely exceptional. The costumes are possibly some of the best I've ever seen.