Well, we survived (just) Sheila's birthday bash in Brixton. Tom's uncle Alex (a.k.a The Orb for anyone who remembers) was playing the tunes and a fun time was had by all. Put it this way, by the time Amy & Mike arrived, everyone was taking close up shots of each others' nostrils. I don't have any particuarly clear shots of the birthday girl, or of anyone for that matter, except Barbie. Some friends, performance artists who put on rather a good yet bizzare show at Glastonbury, presented Sheila with their present - a barbie doll that had been somewhat disfigured. Mind, you have to bear in mind that said friends had been up all night, and any conversation you tried to have with them was a bit strange.
Tom was driving and by my previous standards I didn't drink loads but by current standards was a little too much. So I'm now having a cup of Earl Grey tea. We ended up with 6 of us in the car, all the way home back round the south circular.
Here's a shot of one of my new shoes, that Tom reckons makes me look like Ronald McDonald.

Over and out.

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AuthorWoolly Wormhead