Well Jake’s watching the Olympics, if it’s not the archery, it’s the canoeing, and if not the tennis, the weightlifting. And as tumbleweed is blowing down London’s empty streets, I thought I’d share a couple of bits of news with you, rather than publish it on Twitter.
Yesterday I was wandering around Piccadilly Circus, when I was approached by a young lady. Yes, you lot, not the other way around! It was Jayne from The Wolseley, she’d been checking out the competition with Emanuelle. Well, let me tell you, when it comes to me there is no competition! I was wearing something from my Emperor’s New Clothes collection. Well it was quite humid outside.
Don’t worry I’ll wait for you to get the joke. Madonna found it very alluring.
Anyway I digress; back to Jayne. She suggested a tour of Zedel, the latest opening in the Rexra Group of restaurants. As I’d not been I before I accepted, so we descended into the depths below Piccadilly Circus, to be greeted by Danielle, how we have missed he cherubic face at breakfast. Sorry Jason, but….
It looks fantastic, and as soon as I stop dashing around Europe, I’ll be in like Flint.
And someone has a stalker.
This is what happens when you get very drunk, meet someone; give them your phone number and arrange to meet them at the top of the London Eye 9 and a half weeks later.
First of all the texts start quite playfully, reminiscing over the evening when you met, the horrible drunken state you were both in, the particularly interesting outfit you were wearing. About how romantic it was to arrange to meet at some predetermined point in the future, when clearly you haven’t got a clue as to who this person is.
How the messages get more frantic when you fail to reply, when you can’t remember them or their name. Finally when they buy the tickets for the date on the Eye, and you start to worry that they might be mad.
At least you finally came clean and admitted you couldn’t remember the slightest thing about that night; but do they know where you work?
I await an update.
And as for Dave of the last newsletter, no David it isn’t you, and tell your dad I’m sorry about the Rangers quip, but….
Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.