Thankfully at the time of writing no photographic evidence of myself in a toga or attempting to dance in said toga had come to light on the old book of face. It may yet, but until then in blissful denial shall I remain.
Lessons for the evening included: turning up when you're supposed to is good, else you have to strip off while downing a pack of Carlsberg and throwing on a toga in about thirty seconds; downing a pack of Carlsberg in that short a time will give the best of people a chronic pocket of gas for the rest of the night; and safety pins in the hands of a rushing and hastily lager-guzzling man who's never put on a toga before, no matter what they tell you, are in no way safe.
The added benefit, and you can have this for free, is that you don't need one of these
if you're at a toga party and kipping on a friend's floor or sofa. Just take off the costume and ta-da! Bedding.
That's not, however, to say you can do away with shelter completely. It won't substitute one of these, for instance.
The next morning I woke up at eight. In the annoying way that when you don't need to be you can be really chipper and full of beans, but when it's time for work you have to have a clone physically drag its likeness from the bed. England were playing Scotland in the World Cup, it was being shown in the SU, a few people were going, I was invited to join them, aside from my boxers the rest of my clothes were upstairs in a bedroom somewhere. Cue the least sneaky attempt at retrieving shorts from a girl who has decided they are a pillow that has ever been made.
Out into absolutely blinding sunshine and on to the SU, we made a quick stop at a greasy spoon called Rosie Lee's, which I was told was the best around. I don't know about that, having not been to every greasy spoon, but I can't say that it's far wrong. An egg and bacon butty to die for, if it weren't for the fact that I got it all down me. Yes, the yolk was on me. Yes, I had egg on my face. Yes, I poached this humour from my dad.
England played fairly poorly. But we won in the end thanks to Mr Ashton. The SU looked incredibly clean and tidy given what had occurred the night before. After the game there were many cups of tea had back at the house, the girls who would be taking the train home took forever to look alive, due to a) being in various states of hangover and b) deciding to make spaceship out of a cardboard box, with balloons and felt tips and tin foil. I may have attracted a bit of sniping by trying to "back-seat spaceship design". So, more tea, then the tube and train home in time to shower and not lose all daylight.
If you know anyone at George's and think a night out would be fun there, it is. Go to it.
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