All is going *slightly* well with Matt and Darryl, my visiting Canadians.
Well, kinda. The problem is that Matt and I would rather like to go to bed with each other. A lot.
And Darryl is elevating gooseberry to levels of anguished matyrdom.
Before Matt came over, I suggested to him that he might enjoy a day trip to Brighton. The night before we set off, Darryl announced "I'm really looking forward to coming to Brighton with you guys."
But what harm could there be - and why should I deny anyone the pleasures of Brighton, just so that I could get quality time with a hunky sunburnt Canadian?
So yesterday, we headed off the Brighton, gooseberry in tow. Occasionally marching in-between us, or, if we pulled ahead, stopping short and shouting out our names.
So unrelenting was it, that the only moment of physical contact we managed was on the rollercoaster. And that was clutching each other with fear.
It's not helped by the fact that Darryl earns less than we do. Which means that, even after I've subbed the bill, he still stares at it muttering "We can't afford to carry on like this."
I'm a mean old sulk pants at the best of times, but I've finally met my match. While walking along the beach yesterday, we saw a lovely bar. "Ooh, cocktails!" announced Matt. He's enjoying training English barmen how to make a Manhattan. His arms bulge when he shakes a cocktail. *sigh*
"Guys, do we have to?" whined Darryl. So we end up sitting on the beach, eating ice creams while Daryl whinged at the price of a 99.
I've been on his side of the fence - when Rick first got his big city job, I used to dread summons for drinks in posh wine bars. But, if I had the cash, I'd go and have fun until I was broke. And, if I didn't, I'd make up an excuse.
Anyway, we managed a fun day of sorts. Both of them enjoyed Brighton's bohemian charms, and I nearly bought an antique 52 bottle wine-rack. If the Master returns as an alcoholic, it would be his TARDIS.
We got back to Victoria. Darryl announced he was keen to go explore Westminster. "Great," said Matt. "I could do with a nap back at the hotel. James - fancy a nap?"
Did I ever? By this point I was gagging for a nap.
Darryl stopped mid-stride. "You guys going back to the hotel? Hmmn. Then I guess I'll come back and read."
So we napped. While Darryl read. It was a book about elves and princesses and unicorns.