Another night another leaving drinks. No champagne hangover this time, but I think it could have been.
Most surreal moment of the night? A well-respected colleague asking me if it was difficult to lay eggs. Apparently, the optimum scenario in which to lay eggs is to do a crossover hairflick and make sure that you are wearing a top that doesn't quite reach your the top of your trousers. Much as I tried last night, no matter what sort of hair flicking I did, I didn't manage to lay any eggs. Luckily for me, my colleague then moved onto a different victim and started harassing him about rings on fingers and thumbs. I escaped to the bar for a champagne top-up ;)
Tonight it all starts again. Different colleague leaving, different bar. Sometimes I get this strange sinking ship feeling...
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