(no subject)
I have only now recovered from a rather unpleasant hangover; the worst I've had for years. It was worth it, and difficult to avoid. Last night I went to Trish's Bond party. After a depressing taxi journey with a driver that claimed, "The world is going down the tubes" I arrived in my silver Euro-sleeze boots and purdy-cut pink wig and fake eyelashes. It was a retro spy outfit and with those amazing boots I called myself, "Octopussy in boots". You like? I don't know how, but she managed to get some reall Russians there, a fake slut, and a real sailor in full uniform. I got on particularly well with the ballroom dancer though.