I return from Mike’s wedding, intimate little reception in the room above Gatsby. Pat getting slow and sensual on the dancefloor with Jordan, serenading her with every word to Paradise by the Dashboard Light. You got a keeper there, darling. “I know.” Pat’s Jake beside them, extolling the virtues of absinthe drunk in the Bohemian style, throwing out all the moves, big and bold and beautiful. Arron skulking in the corner, choosing rums while Lizzie boogies with Emerald, before returning to him for caustic comments and a team once again. And Mike too drunk to stand, and Emerald swaying and stomping heels to the country tracks with her Canadian family, and the lights low, the music high, the tequila flowing.
I had a few drinks. I felt so anxious and self-conscious when I arrived, exhausted from a ten-hour Saturday shift on not-enough sleep, and I eventually decided to treat myself to a glass of red wine as it was a special occasion. And then a rum with Arron. And then another.
Home now, suddenly early morning and don’t understand where the time has gone, until I remember the clocks have gone forwards. Cheese sandwich and a glass of water, and post this up, and then tipsily wash my skin and apply acne cream, and fall into bed.
Off tomorrow but need to head into work to take photos for an upcoming promotion. Will take my Chromebook and find a coffee shop in which to situate myself, hunker down, do some writing.
OK, falling asleep now. Ta ra x
No comments:
Post a Comment