I'm sitting here drinking my hundredth cup of tea and smoking my thousandth fag - the sign of having had a blinder of a night at John-John's birthday party last night. Suitably themed for Hallowe'en weekend, everyone interpreted "black'n'bling" in their own inimitable way, and we made a most spectacular crowd at the fabulously atmospheric front bar of the George Inn in Southwark, which John had hired for the occasion.
Lots of drinking, dancing and delirium later, we ended up taking over the upstairs function room at the Dog House on Kennington Cross, dancing on tables and singing our heart out (to Oasis, of all things, as I recall - oo-er). We even won the prize for best Hallowe'en costumes, with a bottle of champers from the landlady Camilla. A fab night indeed!
Being Hallowe'en, weird creatures seemed to be everywhere - from the aggressive drunk who tried to steal Alistair's hat to the bloodily made-up punter at the Dog House - but nothing quite prepared us for the surprise of getting home at 3am to find some strange woman curled up asleep on our doorstep. I soon shifted her off the premises, despite her hurling insults at me... An odd end to a crazy evening. Great fun nonetheless!
As it is actually Hallowe'en today, here's a little message from Elvira:
Whoooo.
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