I can only apologise for the severe lateness. (Doesn't help that my trusty laptop died temporarily)
It's been such a strange week...
It started off on Friday.
Friday, I was contemplating to a friend about having to go to Work's Christmas Party, where I barely know anyone. And He kindly offered to come with me. So, on comes Saturday, washing done, and I'm at the train station... The train has been delayed. Oh. The train has been CANCELLED. I could have died, having to go alone, not to mention having already paid the Hilton's extortionate prices... But Mr Murphy has clearly decided to be kind to me, and 40 minutes later, a bus pulls up.
"Um, I seem to have discovered a puddle in my shoe. Is there anywhere good to get some new ones?" - that HAS to be the BEST first line I have ever heard. Needless to say, we went and found a shoe shop. It was TIPPING it down and blowing a gale after all.
By the time we were heading back out on the bus to find The Saracen's Head (work were meeting up there first) we'd laughed about everything and anything - and my dragon has never responded so openly to a stranger before. Sorry mum, you'll be jealous - not only did Je get licks, He also got the VERY rare dragon-nuzzle... (even I don't get those often!) Kyle's met literally hundreds of people, and I haven't seen him react to someone like that before - could it just be that he likes denim? Mind you, having said that, Eden likes Him too. Straaaaange.
As to the Hilton itself - what a complete fiasco! Work'd put in the orders over a week in advance. The nice bloke come to visit was a last minute add-on. Interestingly, the Hilton handed over all His dishes right first time - but not ONE of mine. For starters, I don't eat Pate. (I don't trust it.) Twice I tried to point out that wasn't what I ordered, but I still had it put in front of me anyway. So I stuck it on the empty table next to me, and finally got my terrine. Which pleased Him, because He got two starters, hehehehe! Anyway, main course, I got offered the wrong thing again. For goodness sake, my order is written on the place marker in front of me - there's no need when sweets came round to offer me cheesecake FOUR times, yes, FOUR times, when I had quite clearly ordered christmas pudding.
But, besides that, we had a very cool time, chatting about random rubbish, and watching (very) drunk colleagues of mine trying to dance. The music was horrifically cheesy (even to my tastes, and I like Tiger Feet for crying out loud... but then so does He.) and when it came to "Amarillo" or whatever that damned Peter Kay song is, it was time to go. That and they kept pratting around with the lighting and threw our table into pitch black. Thanks.
Ordering the taxi turned out to be a whole new ball game. I don't know where the Hilton get their staff, but English is not their first language. Please, don't take that wrong, I'm not racist by ANY stretch of the imagination (in fact, I'm indescriminate), but it really doesn't help when you want something and the staff don't understand. *sighs* Needless to say, the taxi arrived for "Miss Patrick" - which is NOTHING like my name, except it begins with a P. Which resulted in a minor argument with the driver that it WAS for me, until the skies opened with a torrential WHOOSH and we piled in anyway.
Coming home discovered a house full of people, all the sleeping spaces taken up. So yes, this nice bloke slept in my bed. Oh come now, I thought better of you than that! I slept on the floor thanks. And only after much protesting on His behalf. Which caused much hilarity - "Young lady, we will be having words in the morning about you letting strange men sleep in your bed" - thanks, trying not to laugh out loud and ending up in a wheezing ball on the floor. Me oh my, that has me laughing even now.
Sunday later (if I have time)...
And apologies for lack of pictures, this is just a quick text-only rattle.