It’s been a while but I got back to London safely after a fantastically draining holiday. I’d delve into the gory details about the epic beach romances, and fights outside clubs but it would take an eternity to write up. Instead I question the magic waistcoat. We all have one, maybe its not a waistcoat but an item of clothing that seems to have magical powers. Every summer I whip out my magic waistcoat and feel power and vitality that may only be explained by the vast amounts of tequila that I seem to drink wearing the magical apparel.
After a short-lived romance with a vintage French man, I decided to live a little so there I was in my magical waistcoat, dancing, living, breathing the fumed air of a very dodgy club with my closest friends when across the dance floor a young northern gentleman watched in fear as my hips moved in the way they only can in said magical waistcoat. I danced on unknowingly…
The next night slightly more sober and appropriately dressed, I attempted to control a riotous friend who had decided to elope with a Mr. Hudson lookalike. Though this could not be helped, the lookalike had a gorgeous brother… and thus ‘looking after my friend’ suddenly became no hassle at all. While she had found a nice boat to cuddle in, I found myself looking after another rather sleepy friend who’d missed the first cab home. The last femme standing (or rather slumped in a chair with a few signs of life) I finally had a chance to talk to the brother, however this was short-lived. Although I had imagined the opportunity had been missed I managed to arrange a meeting with the brother on his last night.
At this point you may be questioning how this brother relates to the magic waistcoat… funnily enough, after hours of talking, I discovered that while I may have been in a drunken haze of crazy dancing, the northerner who had seen me was this brother. The magic waistcoat struck again, but this time I hit gold.
My heart racing with the excitement of a new potential love interest the rest of the holiday sped by, night by night, empty without his teasing company and I was desperate to return to England and see the Northerner again.
To be continued...
