A Kinda Hush...

Tuesday, Katjas birthday: wonderful dinner at Andrew Edmunds - coupla beers, champagne, homemade wrapping paper, scrumptious food, a few bottles of the house 2003 Minervois, and great company. Always lovely to see Alex and Kat, and Anna met Helen for the first time - they got on like the proverbial house on fire, arm in arm as we swayed across Charing Cross Road. There was a time at Forma when this kinda mid-week social was quite common, but nights like that are very rare these days... fuck me, still dancing at AKA bar at 4am.

The post-wedding week signalled a marked dip in spirits, and it didn't improve much this week - Jake and Wayne drawing the short straw in an elaborate management game. Only the project, semi-hatched with Paul, lunching on a gourmet burger southwest of Harrods, provided a rare moment of enthusiasm and belief. And I gotta get a Plan B.

Tonight too I spoke to the Glenmore posse for the first time in months, and it's Lloydys birthday to boot. They seem a little closer for the call, but not close enough. Later, and Helen calls to say she's down with flu symptoms, a reaction to the jab administered at work today. Mine is scheduled for next week, and I really should be looking out for myself. I suffered for Tuesdays debauchery, big-time, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy myself - it was worth every minute of physical pain and mental anguish that followed. I can't recall the last time I dined so well, or was out on the town with a pair of sexy women for company. I guess it reminded me of a similar night, 2 years ago, at 333 - little wonder I felt so high, and it felt so tender, and so naughty...