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Tuesday, August 16, 2005

I Have Never Had a Bad Night in a Walkabout

I had to do some work socialising last week. "This industry works on personal relationships," they say. Shame. I met them in the pub around six. The usual furious finance pace was set and I was having my third pint by seven. I was canny though: every time I went to collect the round I had a coke. It was ok at first, I guess. My boss did most of the work, I nodded and smiled. Everyone said their ages at one point. Jesus. Is that what a twenty seven year old looks like? Furrows you could grow potatoes in, wedding rings, houses in Romford... I felt like a work experience kid. So it's growing lairier and more boring; I want to stay out, but not with them. I send a speculative text to the Jakester - is he out? He is! I make my excuses - I'm really very tired, I'm so sorry, lovely to meet you - and hook up with him down the road.

Did we have fun? I refer you to the title of this post.

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