The shame...

So, I got paid, woo-hoo, yadda, yadda, big anti-climax as per usual. However, it does mean I can afford things again, such as the odd evening out…

Went out on Saturday night for Sam’s leaving do. We went to Salvador & Amanda, which is one of those bars which has an inflated sense of self. You know, they make a big show of having a tough door policy, but then let you in anyway; all the front of house staff were wandering around with clipboards and walkie-talkies, totally drunk with power. As Naomi and I were headed to the bar, we were stopped by yet another member of staff, waving her clipboard frantically: ‘Just checking you girls know where you’re going…’ Yeah, thanks, we’re TRYING to get to the BAR. Jeez. Anyway, that hurdle over, ordered drinks and then our jaws simultaneously hit the floor when handed the bill. I had planned to stick to vodka all evening, thus reducing my chances of suffering with a hangover the next day. However, to continue buying vodka in this bar, I would have had to re-finance my loan. So we switched to wine. Looking back, I can see now that this was not necessarily a good idea, even though it seemed so at the time.

The evening went well, so well that we didn’t leave until our only option for travel home was the night bus. We had to get 2 night buses in fact. This was ok, as I wasn’t that drunk, I figured, and so we ventured forth and started our epic journey home. Got the first night bus at Westminster – so far, so stuffed with mad drunken people and the fragrant aroma of many a kebab. We got off at London Bridge, to get the next bus. We had to wait here for a VERY long time. We were just about to crack and try to hail a cab (though hailing a cab at this time of night, to go south of the river is a bit like trying to find the holy grail), when the 47 swung into view. Once safely aboard, everything should have been fine. However, we have spoken here, many times, of my lack of, shall we say, outer poise. To be blunt, I am an extremely clumsy person. I average about 1 slapstick comedy moment a day, tripping up over thin air/walking into door frames and so on and so forth.

To cut a long story short, I fell over on the night bus. Oh, the shame of it all. I was going for a seat, tripped up over someone’s feet, I was holding onto the pole, but just ended up sliding down it and then hitting the deck. It was really quite spectacular. I just keep thinking of how everyone must have been able to see my legs, sticking out in the aisle. They must have all thought I was mashed. I did consider standing up and saying ‘I’m not actually that drunk, everyone, just really clumsy’, but thought better of it.

Naomi pretended she didn’t know me.

Am covered in bruises.