One week on

Friday
Good ol' friends. Classical music, white urban undulating (urbane?) ceilings; fish fingers, cheese toast and fries, topped with sour cream, barbecue sauce and heavy discussions on gender, sexuality and the pseudo-intellectuals stampeding to save the world, a sobering whiff of little girls being rescued and the bleak-black-blank future ahead. "Can I help you? Thks, we're just looking. Thats okay, I'll stand here and stare at the money not yet oozing out of your asses." Cops in cahoots with pimps, unable to do naught but talk with uncontrollable tongues trying hard to make their way out of a satisfying haze of booze-induced fog. Winter is here and so is a session of adrenaline pumping, cardiac arresting Montenegro and Prague; a missing Q, a good bod, English accent and a fine debut. Running behind cars and running against time for lots of red wine and a warm blanket. Planning a house-warming for wide prayer-hall curtains; expats and one gay man. Good-night Musky. And the tally stands at:
2 Moo Woos
1 Baileys and Amaretto
1 Gin and Tonic
2 glasses of Red Wine.

Saturday
"How many drinks have you had?" The Mystery of the Missing Phone and Umpteen Unmade Phone Calls; a trafficked bell, small talk, fake comfort zone with lots of green spaces, a farm-house and a long taxi ride; an Azerbaijani with two trophy girls; a (plucky?) French lady alone at the bar, the bleakness of Moscow, postiche smiles and nodding heads, looking at nothing but two empty cigarette packets; a carpenter from Argentina, a masochist with two terraces; the night is still young. Oh, and the tally stands at:
4 glasses of Red Wine
3 Gin and Tonics.

Was it all worth it?

Tis the season to be jolly, tra la la la, la la la la..