Today started out really well. I had a new chimney delivered, and cycled to work along the river path laughing my head off at the Today programme's botched tribute to Kurt Vonnegut, in which poor James Naughtie ended up interviewing himself.
It was downhill from there though - with a weird public online backstabbing from people I thought better of. I stomped off from work, wanting to smoke. Only I couldn't smoke. As I had a date later with a gorgeous air steward. Who doesn't like smoking. So, I'm a non-smoker.
I get to the date on time... didn't realise my phone had crashed.
So, I'm sitting somewhere nice. Waiting and waiting. And wondering.
And he's outside. Trying to call me. And waiting and waiting.
After half an hour (and two vodkas) I suddenly realise my phone has frozen. I restart it. It springs into life, and sends all the messages queued in its clogged memory. Including the one that says "I thought you were different. Goodbye."
As I type he's on his way back. I am drunk. And what would I most like to do? Why, SMOKE THE FUCKING TABLE.
Thankfully, I've a pot of peppermint tea and wireless internet access. What's the worst that could happen?
LATER (after I've stopped actually blogging about a date during it. Which is creepy)...
The cabin crew was charming, beautiful and exciting and we had a great evening. Suddenly, it was 2am, and I walked him to his nightbus. And we kissed goodnight, and then kissed some more, and then... he missed his nightbus, and came back to mine.
All very good in theory, but, in practice not so smart. For one thing he... well, let's just say his boy band hadn't spent enough time in the studio before they released their first single.