It’s nearly 0400 here but i’m still buzzing with the unusual stimulus of social contact after an evening of drinking with David and his boss. David resembles nothing so much as a 19th Century London gentleman, his boss a possibly cruel but indubitably sexy and lovely elf – not of the Galadriel variety, at least not unless crossed with Dita Von Teese. i was mindful that this is clearly a kind of job interview, so accidentally called her “sweetie” thus provoking a baleful gaze and a potent: “I’m not your sweetie!”
She also told me that when first she read my blog, a few months ago, her first thought was “this guy is gay”. Well, kind of but not really.
And now my head feels funny and i realise i drank quite a lot and should go to bed.