A good weekend. Saturday saw our Edinburgh Play featured in the Guardian, with an odd picture but a lovely article.
Sunday was a high-powered birthday lunch, with people who were nicer, prettier, and more powerful than me. It was all a bit dizzying but lovely. And it's got to be a good lunch when it ends up at 1am in Vauxhall's Horsemeat Disco. They play vintage disco (bad) but have an enormous smoking garden (good. I think this is all I now care about when going out).
"I saw you in the Guardian," said someone I was smoking next to. Good, I thought.
Direct chat-up line of the week came from a bloke who I sadly don't fancy:
"Goodbye. I'd like to suck your cock."
3 comments:
Okay, surely he should ask to suck your cock first, and bid you farewell afterwards?
Frankly, any chat-up line that begins with "goodbye" seems destined to fail.
good grief, I read the whole of that article and didn't realise it was you at all. We don't get to see your chin very often, and it's a very fine chin. Even with the beard.
There were some lovely, lovely photos of us. Unfortunately, we looked like we were in The Apprentice. So they chose the one that made us look like fules.
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