I'd forgotten quite how sarcastic and evil Tony can be. I like him. Today's quote, a variation of a Churchill retort:

Tony (in sarcastic tone): "Oh yes, you're very fat."
Me: "You're French, but I don't keep reminding you."
Tony: "I like being French."
Me: "Ah, but I can stop eating."

Then he told me I was an alcoholic as I ordered a carafe of wine for myself as we ate lunch.

2006: After having failed comprehensively to communicate with a 4 year old for the last five hours, I think I might just give up and resign myself to speaking English slowly and very loudly for the next four months.

In the evening, we went to Le Gotha Bar which was about fifteen minutes away in the rain. It was quite quiet and we kept on being annoyed by some drunk person who staggered over and slurred at us lots.

All even we spent discussing the boy in the corner - with his muscular arms, pretty sit on me face and general loveliness. We got chatting to him when I went to the punch to find out whether it was nice, and it turned out he was half English half French.

Charles - for that was his name - had a very bizarre accent. His mother is from Sheffield and his father is from France which leads to this northern style of speaking with a French accent. "So anyway, like, e was aving a 'orrubul day wiz somesing." Dropped H's and like everywhere combined with other little things made him sound very gay indeed. He protested originally but his fashionable ("fashunerbul") clothes sort of gave the game away. Flared trousers (he'd sewn the flares himself) and very gay shoes with bears with genitals on the soles.

AWOOGA! NANCY BOY!

We stood around outside for a while chatting to him - me taking the piss from time to time ("By eck it's orribul oop nor") - before snogging him and wandering off for the evening. Nice smile, nice arse. Shame he had to work because otherwise we could've had him. Probably.

We are not sluts.

I have stopped smoking again.