Last night - because I'm worth it - TheBloke (TM) took me to my favourite restaurant. He was looking extra-smart, and I (as usual) was gorgeous. Proper London-ites at a swanky pants restaurant.
Where we failed, perhaps, to fit in was the fit of giggles we got, daring each other to say inappropriate things. So imagine crisp linen tablecloths, designer toiletries in the washrooms, and a menu simply heaving with dishes involving "squab", "lingoustine", "millefeuille" and "fennel".
Add to that two overexcited people old enough to know better, saying a deliberately a bit too loudly, "You want me to put it WHERE?", "Has the RASH cleared up yet?", "Did you just say PENIS?" I'm guilty too. Whilst I don't join in loudly, I think I still encouraged him by laughing so much I smudged my carefully-applied mascara.
I'm not sure I'll ever be grown up enough to properly experience the London restaurant scene. At least, I hope not.
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