On Friday night I went out in Waterloo with Kate and we had a lovely time, but when we were nearing the station at the end of the night, I remembered that I had left my new umbrella under the table in the restaurant, and I couldn't quite be bothered to run back and get it, and I looked at Kate and I could tell that she didn't want me to go back and get it, and I totally caved in to my own laziness and unspoken peer pressure and didn't go back. And I look back now and I am ashamed at myself. It was a really nice umbrella - not interesting in pattern, but good quality and pleasingly slim. It had cost £9.95 and I'd used it thrice. I have other umbrellas, but such waste is unacceptable. I deserve to be poor and get wet.
On Saturday I met up with my parents and we went for a walk and tried not to discuss politics at lunch, and then I went on a date with a guy who I won't be seeing again. I know you'll want details, gannets that you are, but there's really not much to say. He was wearing a velvet jacket and a good retro shirt, and jeans and dirty Converse, and my mother would have sent him home but I thought he looked great. He was very funny (and presumably still is) but I don't want to marry him and I'd be gobsmacked if the feeling isn't mutual, if not even more vehement on his side. On Sunday, Emily came over and we watched a lot of TV, and then she left and I watched more. The X Factor was splendid, marred only by Simon Cowell's assertion that "there's nothing wrong with pole dancing." Then I went to bed and today I feel like death.
So there you have it. I may or may not be funnier tomorrow. You'll have to check back and see.
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