Dinner with the usual crowd. Boothie and Cookie arrive late, half-cut already. Ms N is already waiting at the bar when I arrive.
Cookie regales us with stories about "accidentally" holding willies in foreign countries. We would believe this was an accident if it genuinely had been once. Unfortunately (or fortunately), this seems to happen to Cookie wherever she goes on holiday. And, for whatever reason, she seems to go on holiday at least twice a year.
Boothie tells us all about one particularly flaky colleague with bad eczema. We giggle guiltily, knowing the Skin Gods are probably listening.
Ms N notices the girls on the next table are wearing skirts so short you can quite literally see the state of their bikini waxists' work. And the boring businessmen on the table adjacent have also noticed this and have joined the dirty slappers. As we christen them. Probably a bit too loudly.
The second round of cocktails arrives.
We are nearly hysterical over an annecdote about a tortoise kept in a fridge.
Dessert is excellent.
As I arrive home at about 10 p.m. I am grateful that it's not entirely dark, that I have good friends, that it's summer and there's more to come.
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