13 Days Later…

I went to a housewarming party this Saturday. A mate of mine from where I used to work, who when we shared a house had a collection of toy robots, read Harry Potter books and wandered around in his boxer shorts, had bought a house in a new development with his heavily pregnant girlfriend.
I got myself prepped by thinking of the attractive young women that I used to work with who might be there, the new pretty young women that I might meet and the absolutely hideous amount of drinking that would take place…

I should have realised what was going to happen when I rang the doorbell to his shiny new house and a 7 year old opened the door…

It turns out that while I've been sleeping my mate has gotten old it turns out that not only did I not know any of the married couples there, but that it was apparently de rigeur to have a small child (age between 6 months and 7 years) called among other things “Poppy”, “Tyler”, “Anoushka” or shudder “Caitlyn”. I suggest a quick look at This for a vast number of reasons why “Tom” is a perfectly good name.

Needless to say I made my excuses (after making sure I didn't drink anything alcoholic which would impede my speedy drive back to London), returned to a mates house, went to a Rave and got completely wankered.

Excellent.

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