Friends; A person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection

At this very moment I am quite literally wallowing in my own self pity. This is not because anything particularly tragic has happened to me. No no.... it is merely because I am suffering from that old Saturday favourite of mine...... THE HANGOVER.
I had clambered into bed at 4am..... only for my disgustingly on form Bodyclock to wake me up at 7.30am. OH and a nosebleed when I sneezed too hard. SERIOUSLY there is something wrong with me. 


Right i'm not even going to lie.... i just paused writing this for a good 3 minutes to watch a Cher Lloyd video. I am a little disgusted with myself.


I've lost my trail of thought horribly....... maybe this is a lesson. NEVER. WRITE. A. POST. WHILST. HUNGOVER.

Ok, so after work yesterday my friends and I met in London to have a nice civilised dinner and drinks.
(oh god Madonna, Nicki Minaj and MIA just came on.... this post is never going to get finished..)


I met my beautiful friend Xanthe in Waterloo to continue our journey together.

I think this photo was the start of a beautiful friendship. And YES that Apple VK went ALL over me. 

We had decided to go to Covent Garden for dinner/ drinks. 

Now, you should have realised by now that I SUCK at directions. I genuinely have NO CLUE how London interconnects, or where anything is in relation to anything else. I rely on London Underground, TFL.com and my Oyster card to get me to my required destination. So ofcourse I headed off towards the tube.

"Coop! where the hell are you going?!"

"Ermmmm Covent Garden!!... should we get the Northern Line?!" - Is Covent garden even on the Northern line? I have no idea.

"Ha ha ha what?? Do you know it's literally just over the bridge??"

"What bridge? I thought it was the other side of London?"

Finally Xanth convinced me the tube was not necessary.

So we went to Porterhouse for a drink.  Elena came to join us and we headed across the road to Fire and Stone for an insanely random Pizza. They put potatoes on pizza in there. As in potato on bread. I think I was the only one to find this odd.

Had a few more drinks in there and Lauren came to join us, having been to the Hockney exhibition.... with her mum who proclaimed at the end "I'm not sure why i came to this, I can't stand David Hockney". Nonetheless, Lozzo's mum is a legend.

Lots of mocking as we walked back over the bridge to Waterloo "So Coop, you know Big Ben isn't actually the name of the tower....." Etc, etc etc etcccccccccccc

We then got a text from Xanthe's boyfriend saying he and his mates were in Clapham. Meh... we spend most of our life there why not head in that direction and ruin their... and I quote... "Pussaaaay Patrol" night!! BA HA HA HA, so bad that I actually wept with laughter.

We hopped along a few bars.... until we found out the "Pussy patrolers" had headed to The Grand (at 10pm........ ANYONE that has experienced The Grand before will know this is a fateful error).

Still determined just to have a 'civilised night' we ended up at a bar on the Northcote, just the girls having some good old banter. This ended quite quickly.
We were in fact awaiting the entry of Elena's new flame (new flame... is that the term??). A 'Guy' we had never met before - those of you that know of him will spot my little pun. Yeahhhhh even hungover I can make awful Dad style puns. 
He arrives, we all chat, make inappropriate jokes, drink lots more and make banter. He fits in quite easily. Two of his friends from work turn up - we name them Edwin and Slaphead.
We all decide that we have missed our last trains so may aswell let the drinking continue... after some toilet trips, some drinks downing and some lemon throwing we all head to The Grand.

We went up to the cloakroom and attempt to do the old "Scarf inside the arms of the cardigan, cardigan inside the coat, coat inside another coat" trick - "Ah yes, the oldest trick in the book" I hear you think sarcastically - Well, you'd be right, the cloakroom attendants were having none of that. DAMN.


Made it down to the bar and the new flame bought us all a round of Jager and vodka - good lad, I like him already.


After a lot of drinking, photos and some passionate dancing to One Direction we found ourselves pining for bed.

But now comes the decision of how to get home......
After some fumbling around outside The Grand, tediously long discussions of Sunday Brunch  and some very loud screeches of "THAT'S WHAT MAKES YOU BEAUTIFULLLLLLLLLLLL" we decide upon a Cab. Xanth literally stands in the middle of the road and flails her arms around in the hope a taxi will stop. It works. However.....
LONG STORY SHORT - HE REFUSES TO TAKE US. WHAT A TWAT.


"Guys, guys guys, the night bus to Kingston is the way forward"
"Coop, coming from YOU!!!"

After visiting various bus stops on different sides of the road we see the N87 to Kingston.... but he isn't stopping - turns out we were at the wrong stop. Xanth yet AGAIN throws herself into the road and in front of the bus. I bang on his door in a drunken rage to let us on. - I have become my own worst nightmare. 


Completely shunned and non existent to the bus driver.... we moved on.... Xanthe rolled around on the ground a bit (out of sheer exasperation i'd assume?!) ..... and another bus came that did let us on.
As we sat on perhaps THE longest bus journey of our lives we contemplated the evening and that well known end of the night sinking feeling set in - or perhaps it was the Jager working it's way up my throat?! 
We all alighted (always wanted to use that word) at Kingston and found Taxis to our plethora of home towns. I STUPIDLY chose to go to my usual taxi rank at Kingston station. This meant that I would have to walk past/through/round/under/across all the TWATS falling out of Oceana. I can't really judge, I had just spent the evening in a very similar club doing very similar twatty things.... .................I still judged. 




The End.


LET THE TOMFOOLERIES CONTINUE TONIGHT. NEXT STOP - WIMBLEDON. WATCH OUT ALL.