Need. Alcohol.

Just spent a very nice weekend up in London visiting my friend's new flat. It's very very pretty, we had lots of lovely food and also watched Ratatouille and Pan's Labyrinth - both films are great fun, by the by, and well worth catching.

The drive back, however, was possibly one of the most terrifying I've had so far in that it was basically two hours of constantly worrying I was about to crash. Rain/mist/fog, whatever, the visibility was pants beyond description, which believe me is no fun when you have huge lorries speeding from lane to lane and junctions branching off every couple of miles. And the less said about the road works on the duel carriageway heading south the better *shudders*

Right now I need to put the wash on for work tomorrow, and then I'm going to have supper and a well earned pint.

I loves my village

So. Staggered into local pub with the plan of (a) ordering a well cooked supper and (b) getting a well-earned pint.

What actually happened?

It was the landlord's birthday. I'd forgotten but arrived nevertheless in the midst of his surprise party. Got a glass of champagne (on the house) pressed into my hand. Struck up conversation with the landlord, the landlady, the vicar, the barmaid's husband, and the barmaid. Two glasses of wine later and I've resigned myself to no chance of getting food ordered but am plastered beyond all reason and generally feeling very happy with the world.

Yes. I loves my village *huggles it*