Ranting to Rowdy
I love friends. They are marvellous, marvellous, things.
I arrived at the pub in a foul mood. Full of ranting grumpiness about office politics, ridiculous objectives and frankly impossible people. The girls laughed good-naturedly and cheered me out of my sulk.
So it wasn’t long before we returned to our normal Rowdy Girl good humour (and sans the usual bulk quantities of white wine too - wonders will never cease). As an aside, I was (inevitably) quizzed about Tall Tom and I gushed a little, but didn’t want to tempt fate by outlining in great detail all his wondrous qualities.
Anyway, full of beans, I sang all the way home on my bike. Folk in my part of London are now no doubt telling their families about a nutter they just heard belting out dodgy pop songs, slightly out of tune and out of breath.
x
