Saturday Night Fever

So indeedy, my camera got a work out yesterday.

I posted (in an ever so trite fashion) about the grief my hair was giving me. And for that, I hope you'll forgive me.

Here's a run-down of the night...

We all congregated at Tilda's house, which resulted in Tilda's bedroom wall being covered in glue, Emma swallowing a tablet for what is probably the FOURTH TIME EVER - sound the bells of England - and me finding a new hobby which may or may not have involved Tilda's dressing gown.



Then we all went to Pizza Express via the river, which was a laugh in itself.



Pizza Express... Ever so posh, and pricey (but I'll get to that later) and the kind of place that reminds me of where I went to work for a couple of weeks last year... I salute those waiters and waitresses, I honestly do.



Meet everyone, minus a few who deftly dodged my camera. People such as Anna are little more than a myth at these kinds of functions...



The food arrived, lovely and yummy looking, and I had the Mother Of All Canelloni.



Then, sometime before being cruelly pressured into having the world's best chocolate fudge cake, Anna and Emma began a staring contest to end the world.



Brilliant. Was sat between what were the two most anti-social people there.



I took the opportunity to try sidetrack them both and discovered that Emma's boobs reflect the sun.



Evan went about his duties, posing with all the girls there in a most amusing way... (oh aren't we talking in a very posh way today?)



And then Tilda might have had an epiphany of some kind, but I was too far gone with the chocolate cake to remember.

We all waddled home... My mum and sister came to pick me up from Tilda's house in their pyjamas.

Thank God they didn't get out of the car.

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Anyway, I have to go... My mum's ill and Cleo's giving me her world-famous holier-than-thou look because she's cleaning the house and I'm... err... not.