Well I know the question on your cute little lips is did he get the job? The answer is maybe. I didn’t hear from Sophie yesterday although she promised to call (right, she’s off my Christmas card list) so this morning I sent a little email. I was very surly at work all day so Sophie’s eventual reply cheered me up no end -
Sorry for the delay, I was a bit optimistic with how quickly we could turn this around!
I will get back to you in the next couple of days, and it would be great if you could send me the article once it’s completed.
Again sorry for not getting back to you sooner
Hooray! She’s just useless like me! Oh Sophie, let’s never fight again (However what the hell does “turn this around” mean? Ring me up and tell me I’ve got the friggin’ job already. That’s what I call a good turn around. Capeesh?)
Last night Jo & I tripped the light fantastic in a few of Soho’s finest bars. Red wine was sipped at the Dome, burgers devoured at Café Emm, gin & tonics were thrown back at the G.A.Y. bar & something else (I can’t quite remember what) was guzzled at Ku. All in all it was a deliciously tacky evening. At the restaurant we had just started our meals when a boy I’d met in Ibiza sat down next to us with his date. It was all a bit awkward. We’d met at Space and played some tonsil hockey but nothing more came of it. I mean its Ibiza. I was a bit too drunk to do the polite conversation thing and they were practically sitting on our laps but Jo, ever discrete, realised that I was a tad uncomfortable and announced that we should leave soon “or miss the movie.” Love Jo.
As he was getting the last round at the last bar - Will called, sounding all alone and unloved. Drunk with love & alcohol I resolved to go over to his place and pass out on his bed as soon as I arrived. I’m a real charmer me.