First the bad (yeah, so I’m just that kind of person). Phil went to get the weasels out for a run, and found that Pooka had wedged herself between the door of their shed and the barrier meant to keep them from escaping as soon as the door is opened. She must have smothered. Poor little girl…I feel so bad. She was such a sweetie. Phil buried her in the back garden, underneath the tree so that no one would accidentally dig her up.
I’ll miss you, little escape artist.
Last night was great. Except for ordering the Most Expensive Drink on the Planet. I got a wild hair and decided to start the evening with a Long Island Ice Tea, and Phil went to order, and explain how to make one. Ten minutes or so later, I went to rescue him, and we came back with this short glass of very dark liquid. No sweet-n-sour mix, but they did put shots of several well alcohols in it, along with some coke and bitter lemon…and charged us 12.50 for a shot of scotch and the “ice tea.” That’s like, $17 or so. Yikes!!! It was horrible, as well.
We all had great fun, though, and I even got to dance a bit, which was GREAT, as I’d really been missing it. I hate it that my job sucks so badly, as I really like the people that I work with. Very funny and wonderful. I wish I could introduce everyone at home to everyone here.
The lights came up at 11:00 or so, as they have weird licensing laws here and pubs either close early, or lock the doors so customers can continue drinking. We left, and had a session of really scary bollard and bench jumping. Plus can-can dancing in the middle of the street. I look forward to Req posting the pictures – some of them should be really classic.
Today, none the worse for wear, thank god (in comparison with the weekend spent hugging cold porcelain after drinking the toxic green stuff), Phil and I went out to look for another rat cage. We found a nice pair of old chairs with tapestry seats in a second hand store for $3 each (pretend that’s a pound sign, I don’t know how to switch to UK symbols). They’ll refinish quite nicely, I think.
We’re extremely broke right now. I think we have seventy-five pounds to get us through until we get paid.
I wish everyone back home could see how gorgeous everything is here right now. It’s so green and beautiful. I love it so much. :)
sigh…
British Pubs aren’t all seedy lock-in places…the only time you’ll see a lock-in is if you’re a close friend of the landlord. Lock-ins are of course – illegal – a lock-in is technically a ‘private party’ hosted by the landlord outside normal drinking hours…
There…does that help? grin