In my head, it would make me quite the social butterfly, slipping between two charming groups of people. One party had songs, singalongs and baloons. The other had fireworks. And the Irishman. What could possibly go wrong?
In a word, booze.
At the main party, I was sticking neatly to vodka, heavily diluted. Good plan.
Upstairs, however, there was some kind of drinking game going on. I don't really undestand the rules, but every time I walked in, I was handed a shot of something different.
I blame the Pernod. Or maybe the gin. Or perhaps the tequila.
But look at the picture - don't I look happy? Can I remember why? No
Whatever, I ended up sleeping on my balcony again. The torrential downpour helped.