Anthrax are very very loud. And I smoked a spliff Friday lunchtime, and drank 2 whisky & cokes and three cans of Grolsch on an empty stomach on Friday night. The net result of all this is that I was spacier than spacy when I went to my 10.40am optician's appointment on Saturday.

C was a bit annoyed at me for staggering back home alone on Friday night. Normally I wouldn't give a hoot about tottering back from the bus stop in the dark, relying on my beer compass to get me home, but maybe I should stop.

Humm.

Well, I guess it's only fair. After all, I'm the one worrying about what would happen to him if he went on a date with a dodgy bloke, so I suppose it's his place to worry about me when I'm coming home from the West End without the aid of knowing what year it is, or my own name for that matter.

Anyway. The rest of the weekend was us being horrifically soppy-couple-ish. We did hair-colouring on Saturday evening (his), and we went to High St Ken on Sunday and bought some clothes in H&M. They have mixed-sex changing rooms there, and it was pretty fun running between our two cubicles, comparing clothes. C is like a boyfriend and girlfriend rolled into one convenient, sexy package ;-) Oh, and he's thinking of getting contact lenses so he can wear makeup more often *sigh*. How dreamy...

The first anniversary of him answering my personal ad is fast approaching... Hmm, which anniversary is the most appropriate to celebrate? First contact (2nd April), first meeting, first shag (both 31st May), or the day we 'officially' became an item (1st June)? Ah fuck it, we can celebrate all three ;-)