I am about to embark on a Friday night out in Clapham. More specifically, a colleague (we’ve worked together now and have previously worked together) and I are off to meet two ex-work mates (from the last job we worked at) for Friday night drinks. I believe I am turning into some kind of hermit because I want to stay in the whole time so, although I know I will have a great time (and possibly one to many drinks), I would rather be catching the 19:07 home. A bid sad, isn’t it?
On this day…
- 2003: The Quiet American