It started so innocently, just a FB message from Utterly Butterly asking if I fancied meeting up for a drink on Friday night to get together before she moved (she's only moving 10 miles away but is 5 mins away at the moment). So I put a casserole on for The Boy and got my sequins on, smoked up my eyes and met her at the local pub. I wore this French Connection dress (it's called Lust):
and my new bargain sale shoes (the black ones):
It was so lovely to catch up, since we last had a big night out she has got engaged, sold her flat and cut all her hair off. So we caught up over a bottle of PG and then got a taxi into town. It was all downhill from there. We bumped into loads for her friends, a few of which I have got to know over the years and had quite a few drinks. One thing (well drink) led to another and we ended up out until very very late. Sensibly we went back to UB's for a cuppa and promptly fell asleep. The Boy wasn't too chuffed to come down in the morning and find me on the dead to the world on the sofa, still in my dress, when I finally got home closer to 6am.
As The Boy was in such a mood with me, I spent all day Saturday pretending not to feel too bad when in fact I was having trouble evening speaking. So when In The Thick of It finished last night I could have almost wept with joy at the thought of going to bed.
So here I am the day after the day after the night before, over 8 hours sleep and I feel bloomin' marvelous. I have some interesting war wounds (bruises that I can't explain but as I am clumsy enough sober it's not really that surprising) and (some) memories of a great night out but now with the added bouns that The Boy is talking to me again, I no longer look like death warmed up and feel ready to tackle anything the day throws at me.
It was a great, great messy night out - and I for one blame it all on those pesky sequins.