On Saturday I went to Brighton for a huge house party that all my friends were at; there was alcohol and drugs and Triston and Cat and all my favourite people and good music and good vibes. We had a barbecue first and then I got really drunk and had some narcotics and cried three times even though I'm not normally a crying type of drunk and I felt awfully funny the next day.
Today I babysat a 7 year old boy for the first time; we watched teenage mutant ninja turtles and a silly film starring Vin Diesel and played with his soldier/knight/wizard figurines and some toy jungle animals and some toy cars and I let him eat some crisps even though I don't think he was really allowed. He told me about how sometimes his sister is annoying and about his trip to the beach with his cousin who can't drive because she nearly cut her hand off and about his best friend Harry B and he showed me his hamster called Humphrey and his bunk bed and where they kept their cutlery and where they kept their washing machine and where they kept their shoes.
Guess which one I was looking forward to more, and which one I ended up sort of having a better time doing?
Life is funny like that sometimes.
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