Vingt Cinq

My God I think I am going to die. It was Anniversaire Celebration: London last night. I seemed to think that I wasn't that drunk however, the queasy feeling I've endured the whole day coupled with a banging headache and people telling me about bits of the night where I was present but certainly can't remember seem to suggest otherwise. Also, waking up in a hotel room with an empty bottle of champagne in your hand also points to the conclusion that a fun time was had by all. 

Anyway, once we'd managed to drag ourselves out we decided to go to Upper Street for some lunch. Obviously I wanted to die. On the way to lunch we were having an upbeat conversation about how you never know who carries weapons these days and how you have to be really careful not to give lip or you might get stabbed in the face and even though people say they only carry it as a deterrent it doesn't take much to lose your temper and accidentally use it. Your normal hungover, Sunday conversation. 

So, we finish our meals and we walk back down to Angel and there's five of us and we're spread around the pavement. Pretty annoying yes. I know. But we were so deep in conversation we didn't really notice. All of a sudden some moron behind us started shouting, "HELLLLLLLLOOOOOOO, HELLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO, WE CAN'T GET PAST YOU WHEN YOU WALK IN A LINE ON THE PAVEMENT"

Well. That was it. I was hungover and therefore a sniff away from anger. I turned around and said, 

"You are so rude. So unbelievably rude. If you had just said excuse me like a normal person we would have moved. Instead you shout like an uneducated ruffian" (Yes. I said uneducated ruffian. I'm such a knob). I then turned to my friend and announced, "And THAT, Dave is why I don't carry a knife."

The irony of the whole situation being that he literally had two steps to go before he crossed at the traffic lights so had he not been so out of order we would never have had our little exchange and he would have got there a whole lot quicker anyway. My friends, most of whom are Northern, were appalled at the debacle and Erin summed the whole situation up with, "I think I'd have a heart attack if I lived in London."

Exciting news - I have my first (well not strictly true but it was about 100000 years ago so we'll pretend that didn't happen. Oh and I drove in Ireland because it's Ireland and no one cares about laws and silly things like that. They all go to the Doctors on their tractors. That's true by the way. My Grandad used to put on his suit and get on his tractor and drive to the Doctor's and then park up in the car park. Beside all the other tractors. I digress. Focus, focus and I'm back in the room) driving lesson. Watch out! I'm on the road! (Probably slowly. Very slowly)