Some girl in the queue for the loo, full face on, calling my dress tarty. I smiled, took a photo anyway, and posted it before last orders. She can cope.
Tag: saturday
Cloakroom Queue Was Criminal
Soho, Saturday, one toilet cubicle with a lock that actually worked. We still managed. I lost an earring and gained a story. The attendant definitely knew. I tipped her anyway.
Walk Of Pride In Daylight
No jacket. His socks. Sunglasses I found in the Uber. A woman with a pram looked at me like I’d invented sin. Morning.
I Went Back For Keys
Left them in his jacket on purpose. Went back at noon looking wrecked on purpose. He made coffee. I took the keys and a photo of his bookshelf for the blog. Efficient.
House Party Ended At Breakfast
Someone put porridge on. Someone else was still naked. I wrote half the piece on my notes app between bites.
The Cloakroom Was Not Empty
Thought we’d been clever. We hadn’t. Some girl from Putney was already in there crying into a coat. I still finished the story. She can write her own.
Mia Covered For Me
Told Sophie I crashed at a cousin’s. I was three streets over with a man whose Instagram I still can’t find. Mia wants payment in the form of me doing her laundry. Fair.
Club Bathroom Mirror Confession
I told my own reflection I was going home with him. She agreed. She also needed more gloss. Priorities.
Roof Terrace At Four
Someone’s friend-of-a-friend had access. No licence, just speakers and a view of the City looking cheap. I danced like the content was already posted. It wasn’t. Yet.
He Finished In The Uber
Look, the meter was still running and I wasn’t getting out in Peckham at 3am with unfinished business. He tipped the driver. I kept the story.