Waiting

Woke late, watched Hollyoaks, and then suddenly it was time to head off to join the gang for our Grand Prix lunch. Being reallly sensible these days about not drinking and driving, that meant I had to get the DART, which in turn meant it was touch and go to get to the race in time for the start (pant, pant). It was a really boring race (Monte Carlo, Alonso won, Lewis Hamilton second, they're now joint leaders in the Drivers Championship). But let's be honest, here: the race was just an excuse for a bit of a party, and we sure partied. I only got home at 12.30 am, despite all my best intentions to be well behaved and sensuble. At least we had a decent taxi driver.