Anyway. On Friday night there were drinks, and then on Saturday there were more drinks with lovely lovely uni friends (including sophiedb, hurrah) and a drunken old man came up to me while he was leaving the pub to slur "yooo're looovely" at me, or rather at my cleavage which was admittedly rather on display, but yes, I took that as a good sign.
AND THEN I traversed London for the party of the lovely ultraruby and her lovely boyfriend who may or may not have a livejournal, and at first I was a tiny bit shy because I only knew ultraruby and mzdt, but then I got with the drinking and became very much Not Shy. Ahem. There were lots of fabulous people there most of whom have livejournals but most of whose usernames I can't remember (NAME BADGES, PEOPLE), but I do remember amuchmoreexotic and monkeyssk8 and addedentry and dermfitz and miss_newham and ruudboy who I have met before and whom I didn't talk to as much as I would have liked, and offensive_mango whom I hadn't met before but felt like I had. And class_worrier, look, an lj-tag of your very very own. It was generally brilliant and I feel a tiny bit ashamed as I was mostly runnning round being teenage but ah well, I don't seem to have permanently alienated anyone, which is the best one can hope for, really.
Then on Sunday I went home because Sunday was going to be the Big Sunday of Doing Things like finishing my GODDAMN UNPACKING which, hello, I moved in SIX WEEKS AGO, and stuff to do with the PhD and the Novel That Isn't but instead I had some tea and fell asleep for three hours, and then went out again, because I have WILL-POWER OF IRON.
I am having lunch with my publisher tomorrow and all I have of Novel #2 is two and a half pages in an old work notebook that I scrawled while sitting in a bar this evening. I am so not a grown-up.