It was only him and his friend wasn't it!?

He could scarily remember both Katie ('with the long hair') and Natalie ('the tall one') yet I didn't recognise him one iota, while I merely 'looked familiar'. I think the fact that on our train journey there I was hyped up as a psychopath on pep pills and the journey home happened while I was a) half hideously drunk and half hungover, b) at 5.00 am or there abouts and c) because I began the journey ripping the pillow headrest off my seat, slapping it down on our shared table along with my head and remained passed out until we got back to London. All feasible reasons why I didn't remember him. He also knows my old school friend Karen, who was on his corridor in uni halls in Kent. It's a small, small, mad world.

St Patrick's was a good night. Although I should have perhaps realised it was going to be packed everywhere with the combination of it being a celebration of the patron saint of alcohol (or whatever St Patrick indeed did), Friday night and Covent Garden. Our first choice of drinking venue had about an hour long queue outside it so we ended up in a Canadian pub of all places, called the Maple Leaf, and had a jolly old (squashed) time in there. After a few hours drinking we became starving and ended up in Bella Italia. I don't think we did very well with the whole Irish element of the day.

I have now used the New Bloke's pool twice and it is very lovely indeed, even though it has some super strength chlorine in it which made me both itch and smell even after having a long and thorough shower. I think the jacuzzi hot tub-mabob just about makes up for it though. Apart from Friday night and the swimming I had a very relaxing weekend, watching America's Next Top Model, old Blind Date (again!), various DVDs and I think one of the most significant things to happen was that I developed an addiction to mustard on toast. God help me if I ever become pregnant.

This weekend should be quite special I think. It's mine and the boyfriend's proper one year anniversary (as in a year since our first date), and he's taking me away somewhere from Saturday until Tuesday. Of course people at work wanted to know why I was having two days off next week and once I'd confessed I didn't know where I was going they all chirped in with their own hilarious guesses (eg. Gretna). I guess I won't find out where we're going until we're on the way there. I imagine it's somewhere on home land, since it's only a short break and when I asked what clothes to bring he told me to pack for March weather. Very excited indeed.

Mustard on toast, eh? I'm still trying to work out what the hell that's all about.

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