We’ve left the restaurant (Camino’s) with absolutely no plan about where we’re going. Laura has sensibly opted for home and jumped on a bus, Mark and I think one more drink is the right option. It isn’t. Not even remotely.
Mark is calling *warm* on-the-bus Laura to work out where the bar is she mentioned. I’m hunkered down in my scarf getting progressively wetter and colder, yet we still set off for St.Pancras ever hopeful of finding a bar that’s open. There isn’t one. It’s Easter Sunday, nothing is open. The world has shut up shop and gone home for the evening.
We give up quickly, but not quickly enough, pissing about in St.P while waiting for an Uber … all hail the Uber!! … looking up a statue’s skirt [Mark] and also picking its nose [Mark], thus proving you may grow older, but you just don’t mature! And thank god for that too!
It was great to catch up with Laura and Mark, it’s been far far too long.