Eyes like road maps.

Yes there was drink involved. Well what do you do when an old pal turns up from far far away and wants to go out on the lash.
‘No no I can’t I have to sit in and try and remember when I last detected tone in my thighs’ Aye right.
So off we went into the night. Well specifically The Balmoral Hotel, posh and not the sort of place we usually hang oot so slightly cowed by the grandeur we started in whispery voices. Cut to 4 hours later we were singing at reception. Sorry to the lovely staff.

When in the loo last night I thought my friend Anne was in the adjoining cubicle so I knelt down, put my hand under the door and grabbed her bag. The shriek that emanated from the cubicle made my blood run cold it wasn’t Anne but a complete stranger.  I apologised profusely in an Irish accent in case she was sitting next to us in the restaurant and recognised my voice and ran like the wind. Poor woman.

Made a pact with myself before going out drink water between every glass of booze. I did that – twice and then the ‘what the hell you’re only young once’ thing kicked in. Of course I’m not bloody young anymore which is why I now look like Marty Feldman after someone sat on his face all night and feel like someone has force fed me dung for a fortnight.


Writer & broadcaster.

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