For yesterday night, Yassin and his flatmates had organised a cocktail party. To spice this up a little, they decided it should be a fancy dress kind-of-thing, in the vain hope that we would be on our best behaviour and not completely thrash their flat. So I took it as an excuse to finally wear that 1920s style shirt that Pierre had given me when we were still at school and which I had never come round to wearing and put some black jacket on top - looking a bit like I was going to a funearal apparently.
Carola and Birgit joined me to go there and it was much fun. The flat was packed with people and the hosts had done an excellent job doing the shopping and continuously preparing large quantities of White Russian, Sex on the Beach and Piña Colada.
Predictably this morning everyboy felt rather wasted and when I dropped by their place after shopping this afternoon to pick up the containers in which I brought some ice over yesterday, they were still busy cleaning up. That much for our best behaviour...
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