Nny is on the very very very very short list of people I do not wish fiery lingering death on
This may be related to the fact that she bought me lunch. Turkey and chestnut pie, and some attempts to rehydrate me which haven't really succeeded so far. I still feel like my brain has been smeared on the inside of my face like a fly on a windscreen.
As always I can't remember most of what I was talking about - I do remember holding hands with Chris over a table in the Green Carnation and jubillantly shrieking "I HATE HER! I HATE HER SO FUCKING MUCH!" but y'know, that could apply to almost anyone currently still drawing breath so IDEK. And there were cocktails and I was accidentally hosed in the arm by dreadlocked!bartender and excusemebutmytastesaremyown. We left before I really wanted to, but also before I started nuzzling the flock wallpaper so perhaps it's for the best; tramped up to the Three Compasses and proceeded to do my party trick of tormenting bartenders with cocktails they have't yet learned to make (please see also the BFI bar, various pubs which put cocktail menus out with fingers crossed that no one will be foolhardy enough to order anything more adventurous than a Harvey Wallbanger).
Still don't remember what I was ranting about but I do recall us having some kind of "weird laugh"-off with some teenagers on a bus, and Nny squeezing my boob for an uncomfortably long time in an attempt to make it honk.
From today, though, when Nny dragged us down to the Three Compasses again to get lunch [Let's be honest, if I could be bothered to take my laptop down there to use their wi-fi I would basically live in that pub forever, I give you the following contextless moments:
"And then Paul Bettany would just open his coat and there'd be leeches. One on each nipple. He's just stroking them absent-mindedly while he talks."
And
"It's just a question of angle. 90 degrees. There, innocent poking. There, ten years in prison."
As always I can't remember most of what I was talking about - I do remember holding hands with Chris over a table in the Green Carnation and jubillantly shrieking "I HATE HER! I HATE HER SO FUCKING MUCH!" but y'know, that could apply to almost anyone currently still drawing breath so IDEK. And there were cocktails and I was accidentally hosed in the arm by dreadlocked!bartender and excusemebutmytastesaremyown. We left before I really wanted to, but also before I started nuzzling the flock wallpaper so perhaps it's for the best; tramped up to the Three Compasses and proceeded to do my party trick of tormenting bartenders with cocktails they have't yet learned to make (please see also the BFI bar, various pubs which put cocktail menus out with fingers crossed that no one will be foolhardy enough to order anything more adventurous than a Harvey Wallbanger).
Still don't remember what I was ranting about but I do recall us having some kind of "weird laugh"-off with some teenagers on a bus, and Nny squeezing my boob for an uncomfortably long time in an attempt to make it honk.
From today, though, when Nny dragged us down to the Three Compasses again to get lunch [Let's be honest, if I could be bothered to take my laptop down there to use their wi-fi I would basically live in that pub forever, I give you the following contextless moments:
"And then Paul Bettany would just open his coat and there'd be leeches. One on each nipple. He's just stroking them absent-mindedly while he talks."
And
"It's just a question of angle. 90 degrees. There, innocent poking. There, ten years in prison."