Okay not kind of more like very much so. I mean who would have guessed that would ever have happened. The idea here is generally that what I write is mostly not read by the people I'm writing about, which is best. If my mother ever read this, I would be a world of trouble.
So difficult third date (DTD). I went to the Ashtanga class and managed not to fall asleep at the end and off I headed into Soho. To be honest it started out kind of well; what I mean is that she turned up and apparently the turning up is always a good sign.
So we're standing there and this being last Wednesday, a particularly fine, balmy even, warm October evening, the kind that that gets people excited and talk turns to Indian summers and the like, and every pub in Soho had a street-side crowd as people enjoyed the weather that was at least as warm as the beer apparently used to be.
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