Dinner

Last night’s dinner went smoothly, with the least amount of awkward conversation that can really be expected during dinner with your boss. Far too little wine was consumed, but unfortunately when you are used to a bottle on your own, that tends to happen. It is a weird thing indeed to view your boss in his natural habitat, and observe him in a social realm. Interesting, no doubt, but strange. Luckily in a group full of lawyers, there is seldom a quiet moment because no-one can allow a statement to go unchallenged, so four hours passed fairly quickly. It would have been a far more interesting 4 hours if I we drank like we ate, but so be it.

However before the dinner, yesterday afternoon, the boy left his keys in the flat and of course, didn’t have spares. After trying to break in with a wire for 20 minutes (it’s just not in my blood to be a criminal), we decided to go for a more serious measure. So, in true Rambo/cop/james bond style, he dramatically kicked the door in. Hot stuff man! I don’t care if I am turning 6 000 years of feminist progress on it’s head, when a man kicks a door down, I get all hot under the collar and want him to father my children and protect me from woolly mammoths. It’s a primordial thing, I suppose. Something to do with pheromones, no doubt. I wonder how many times he’s going to ‘forget’ those keys now…