So a couple of weeks ago I met up with an old school friend, thanks to the wonders of this photo on Facebook (can you spot me?).
While I’d known she was in London and we’d agreed to go for a drink about two years ago it never quite happened, so we finally arranged to meet just after I returned from Hamburg.
I’ve not been drinking because I’m on a diet and would rather have food, but since we arranged to go to the pub that night it seemed rude not to so I had a few pints, we caught up a bit and I met her husband Scott. It was great to see her again and I managed to get an invite to Scott’s birthday yesterday night.
We all met at Smithy’s Bar and my mate Neil came down. Unfortunately for my diet I again decided to have a drink and ended up getting fairly drunk before having a kitkat at the pool hall and a couple of double cheeseburger from McDonalds at about 3am.
Hurricane’s pool hall near King’s Cross is pretty cool and open 24 hours, so I’ll need to remember it in future.
Anyway, all I can think of when I hang around with somebody called Scott is this –