Tuesday's gone...
And onto night number two of school night shenanigans... Tuesday night found us at a posh gaffe in Oxford celebrating the 18th birthday of my best friend's son. I'll be honest with you, limping out of bed on Tuesday morning after the Monday night in London, I had blinked blearily at the husband and asked hm how many hours before I could get back into bed. Turned out it was a lot more than I was hoping for (to be honest, anything more than half an hour was too long) and the day passed by in a whirl of bins and black coffee. It's strange isn't it? You feel utterly whomped (my new favourite word) and then you're surrounded by wonderful people, cake and loud music, and all of a sudden tired eyes are history. Halfway through the evening, I sidled up to the husband who had been cornered by Mrs S's sister, and in the middle of a conversation about being a make-up artist (her, not the husband) I asked him whether he'd like me to drive us home at the end