Category Archives: Boys Boys Boys

Still Incoming

Posted on June 3, 2009 | Leave a comment

blonde-goth-21It goes ‘on and on and on’ like the clichéd Journey song always meant it to but now I’m really wondering WTF is actually going on . You read about the ex below, who got in touch totally out of the blue. Well now I’m after getting a Facebook friend request from another ex from about 6? maybe 7 years ago. We went out a few times and I wasn’t that interested, nice enough guy but he had a canny knack of just ringing and saying he’d booked tickets for Film X that I’d mentioned or that he’d booked a table at Restaurant Y that he knew I liked. I actually got bored of trying to be nice, giving him a chance and just going with it. I answered his texts less and less, turned him down on numerous occasions and then after several ‘no’s', he was bugging me so much that I ignored him altogether. This went on for about a year, i.e. him not getting the message and there’d still be intermittent texts over the months for quite some time.

Then I was out of the country for a while and I got a text from him about a week after I came back, this is now approx 4 years ago. He asked how I was, what I’d been up to and I answered as I was still all upbeat from my time away. A few days later I turned him down to meet for a drink later that week, 5 minutes later my phone rang, I absentmindedly answered it he was on the other end of the line – ‘Where are you? Sure I can be there in half an hour!’ Damn and blast! Cue very uncomfortable catch up drink, I brought him to a bar I knew he’d hate, there was no kissing and while he still kept on texting, I kept ignoring. Then finally approx a year after this second bout of contact, I told him to give the rugby ticket to someone else and praise the Lord, he stopped contacting me. Until last weekend when he sent the Facebook request.

I have no intention of dragging all that up again but I was curious to see his pic – show me someone that wouldn’t be?! I clicked into his profile page and there he was, looking just the same, which is actually quite good looking in a bit of a nerdy way. And how does he describe his relationship status? Married. Married, that’s what! So why oh why oh why did he look me up again? That ship has long sailed buddy. 

Back to the email out of the blue a few weeks back. I was kinda seeing this guy for a small while but knowing I was going away on said foreign trip and would be gone for some months, I wasn’t pushed to keep it going while I was away. There were a couple of emails exchanged recently but as I was never that interested and all this originally happened 4 years ago, suffice to say that my 2nd email was very much straight answers to the questions he asked and I had no desire to keep the chat going so I didn’t ask any in reply. Even my first reply literally just had a ‘How are you’ politely placed at the end of the email with no other questions inbetween.

I also got a Facebook request from this guy over the weekend! Now, as I’d surmised, he had been due to get married about 2 years ago so I didn’t know if he’d actually gotten married, got married and had already split up etc. So, again I click into his Facebook pic and what does his relationship status say? Single, Single is what! So, now he’s single I’m sure I’m part of a chain of ‘used to knows’ that he’s trying to unsingle his life with. Am I going to confirm this request either? No way hose! I’ve absolutely no desire to rake this up again and even less desire to compete with all the saddos that base life achievements on the number of Facebook friends they have.

God! Is it the weather? It is that I give off this impression that I will always be single and therefore a refuge for any of my exes finding themselves suddenly single or living in the middle of nowhere that now-married ex seems to be. Am I destined to be the party girl that never settles down until one day I wake up and realise I’ve just tried to chat up a friend’s son or worse that every one forgets my name and I just become the ‘lady who likes a sherry but watch out for all the cats she has’.

*Sigh* I don’t mind being ‘the lady who likes a sherry’, I don’t even mind being the ‘lady who likes sherry that has loads of cats’, I just don’t want to be the the type of person thought of as remaining on the shelf for my entire life.

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Posted in Boys Boys Boys, The Glitter Files

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Ex Marks the Spot

Posted on May 21, 2009 | 5 Comments

X-Letter-XPeople come and go, a bit like buses, always or mostly always on the move. Situations change. Good things happen and not so good things happen. A bit like ex’s – some are good and some, well, definitely not so good.

‘Ex’ should mark the spot because ultimately, where ever and whenever the break up happened, it should stay there. I really am a firm believer in that, even though and don’t get me wrong, I’ve lameted a few that got away and perhaps in a nostalgia tinged moment years later wondered ‘what if?’, when it comes down to it, there’s no point living in the past.

Now I sound like that bloody book, ‘It’s called a break-up because it’s broken’..  I digress…

What I’m getting at here is essentially the fact that I’m not too fond of just looking up a past loves ‘just for old times sake’. Not a very Mills & Boon thing to say, but I just don’t see the point – you’ve moved on, they’ve moved on, everyone is older and the hope of happily ever after is the reality of a mere fleeting glimpse of contentment that comes along far less than you’d like it to.

I got an email from an ex last week, simply asking if I ‘was still around?’, just that, a one liner! I mean, what kind of an email is that? I wasn’t going to reply but I thought about it and a day or two later, I was in a generous mood so I replied. I told him that I was. Said how I’d changed jobs, told him where I was working and said that I was still living where I did when we went out. It wasn’t a 3 line email, it was friendly yet non committal, ie in girl code, I didn’t ask any deliberate questions that he might feel inclined to answer apart from a last line of ‘how are you?’ out of politeness.

I got a reply within a matter of hours. It was all upbeat and chatty, even longer than my reply. I read it in work and it was almost like a wave of disgust came over me – why was this guy mailing me? It’s been like 4 years. It was a very casual thing anyway and one day I just didn’t reply to his text nor pick up his subsequent phone call. Yeah, you’re right, I just couldn’t be arsed. Then I got to thinking… This guy was due to get married about 2 years ago. He met someone very soon after me and texted me to say he’d met someone else that he was really, really into – he sounded happy so I thought good luck to him. Then I bumped into him a few months later and he told me he was engaged. I fake smiled at him, whether he copped on to my insincerity or not, he was too busy telling me he was absolutely delighted for himself as he really, really wanted to get married and have kids. Whatever! Go do your thing. It really doesn’t factor high on my list of things I’m so happy about I could burst.

They were due to get married about a year and a half after that. I presume they did get married. I presumed they were still married until I started wondering why, if they are married, is he contacting me? Especially after all this time. Why would you contact an ex if you were happy with someone else? Why would you want to contact an ex if you’re not happy and risk find out that they’re living the absolute life of Reilly in daily raptures of complete joy? [Ok, Ok, I'm getting a little carried away but last thing you want to hear when you're sad is that your ex is bordering on deliriously happy].

I just don’t get why he contacted me. And I definitely am not swayed by that old chestnut of him ‘just wanting to know how I was getting on’ – yeah right, something definitely smells a bit fishy. Did he get married? Is he still married? I don’t know. He used the very vague ‘…still working in XYZ place but might move on soon.. living in abc so I can walk to work…’ type of communication. No ‘I’m living’ or ‘We’re living’ – there was no mention of anyone else.

Anyway, the bottom line was that once I got thinking I decided to let him know where he stood. In his second email, amonst other things, he had asked how I had ended up working where I am now. My second email to him was very succinct, to the point. I answered his question, explained that my day to day job is now the flip side of what I used to do, said I like it and signed off. It wasn’t a rude email but it wasn’t a friendly one with questions galore to keep the new found old friendship going. No questions, no ‘talk soon’ or ‘keep in touch!’ – bleugh! I hate those crappy sayings that people reel off when they mean the opposite but give in to using the standard fob off type line.

To quote the very quotable Samantha Jones, ‘If you sleep with an ex and it’s good, you’re pissed off you’re not with them and if you sleep with an ex and it’s bad.. well.. then you’ve just slept with an ex’. And that’s tragic.

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Posted in Boys Boys Boys, The Glitter Files

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Man Friday

Posted on May 15, 2009 | 2 Comments

fv3Can you hear the drums, Fernando?

Well ye should cos there’s a lot of girls beating a path to your door! Fernando Verdasco is currently Number 9 in the World Tennis rankings and personally, I’d help this hottie with his balls any day of the week!

The 26 year old Spanish Spinner is the second ranked player in his country but only to the World Number 1, Raphael Nadal. The two met earlier this year in the semi final of the Australian Grand Slam – a game that lasted a record 5hrs 14minutes that was hard fought over 5 sets with Nadalscraping through in the final set 6-4. This game – and boy do I count my lucky stars that I got to drool over both players for the entire time – is widely regarded as one of the best games of tennis ever played!

 

Verdasco is a very aggressive baseliner who is widely considered consistent on all surfaces. Many players including Andy Roddick consider him to have one of the hardest forehands on tour. His serve is characteristic of a left-handed player predominantly using slice to create a lot of swing.

He is known for rivaling compatriot Rafael Nadal with the amount of top spin he can put on a ball. Which is great for tennis fans but even better on both counts for the likes of me is that he poses for pix like these!

fv2fv

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1 City, 100 Pubs

Posted on April 8, 2009 | 4 Comments

London went like this;

Friday

McSmile stuck in traffic, late-ish for flight. Took advantage of Spirits Promotion and had 2 vodkas [me] and 2 brandies [McSmile] on the plane. A stressful trip into M&S [now referred to as 'SandwichGate'] meant a sambo while on the train into Victoria and a can of beer for McSmile [insert raise of eyebrow and the word 'Feckit' here]. Straight across from Victoria and into the Duke of York. Vodka all round, our little troupe now including McSmile’s Bro. Tube to Islington. Pop into The Famous Cock ‘for one’ while waiting for Bro’s friend to arrive [btw, I barely got a 'Very Funny' from McSmile when I exclaimed that I didn't know they'd named a pub after him.] Did I drink vodka there? McSmile was on beer. A short hop to McSmile’s Sis’ house. Wine, deffo wine there. Chat chat chat. Left there around 10.30 to allow for child in the house and big evint the next day. Myself and McSmile checked out the Duchess of Kent around the corner and then some other pub where the barman wasn’t particularly accommodating, probably annoyed waiting for his next modelling assignment to come through and then on to the Tube again. At this point jumping through on one ticket as I’d lost mine. ‘Change at Vauxhall, then get the train to Twickenham’, advised the Bro. ‘Bollix! Wake up! Vauxhall! That’s us!’. Walk to McSmile’s Dad’s place really dying to pee. Beer on the sofa. Good idea to just sleep there as I only had to stand for 2 minutes until the sofa bed was all made up.

Saturday

Leisurely start over rasher sambos. Train from Strawberry Hill into Picadilly. The obligatory ‘Regent St is this way’ conversation. Walk past the turn for Great Marlborough St, walk back, McSmile decides very quickly that Liberty isn’t his kind of shop. We arrange to meet at particular time. McSmile not overly impressed with the Rodrigo Otazu bracelet I’m willing to buy and fore go the rent for. Schlep towards SoHo to find a bookies. Confirm how much a taxi back to Islington is, jump in taxi and then hunt down our first alcohol of the day! We opted for a Slug & Lettuce [pub chain] as the Grand National was starting. I gazed longingly at the houses for sale in the window of an estate agents nearby for 10mins as the race was on [can't watch horses fall!] and had a lovely fag outside as well. Arrival of Sis, Sis’ Husband and Son. Cue all attention on the 4 year old. I keep my sunnies on so I can pretend I’m not in the vicinity of a kid. Back to the house after several drinks. Time to get ready, after the vino was opened. I did my make up in full view of ‘The Boys’ in the mirror in the sitting room as it meant I was near another drink and the table is massive for optimum product spreading out. Me, McSmile & Bro decide to have ‘one’ for the road and then have a few in The Duchess of Kent before getting to the club where the party is being held. I get poured a glass of Prosecco before I can get to the bar, so all is well. Several glasses of Prosecco later, several chats ahem, at people I hadn’t met before, several ‘Try the prawn thingys, they’re really good’ later, one lost bag found behind the bar [I got as far as describing my wallet, my camera and then when I said 'a really grubby Hello Kitty purse' the barman rolled his eyes, disappeared and came back with my bag - No idea! No idea where I left it], pix galore, more ‘OOOHHHH YOU’RE Glitter!’ conversations than you could shake a stick at and so, so much general merriment and laughter… It was back to the house for a few more drinks, of what I don’t know as I can’t remember this part at all.

Sunday

Waking up on a strip of couch approx 2 inches wide the length of my shoulders and back, prised between McSmile and the back of the couch, no duvet/pillows or any of those unnecessary things, I realised that my legs were twisted in a funny way and that how best to describe me was ‘mostly underneath’ a McSmile that was half hanging off the couch. It was only a bit funny when he wouldn’t let me prise myself out of this position when I really, really needed to pee. It was even less funny when Sis asked us why we didn’t pull out the bed – ‘You do know it’s a sofa bed?’. Breakfast was a couple of fags and a sigh of ‘Jesus, I’d better get out of this dress’.

‘OMG! It’s not closed, is it? It can’t be closed!’ No, it wasn’t closed and we found ourselves inside the Duchess of Kent again and then outside of it while we basked in the early afternoon sunshine, smiling at how wonderful alcohol is on a sunny day after a great party. One cab ride to the other side of Islington and we were at ‘The Island Queen’ for Brunch. We took advantage of the sun and so sat outside. Mmm more Bourbon. The food was disappointing and there were kids at the table. I kept my shades on as much as possible but I think everyone had got the message that I’m not a kid person by then anyway. Back to the house, a few more drinks, an exchange of pressies for the Birthday Girl – ‘OMG! This is fantastic! Really fantastic! OMG!’ and it was time to go.. well, go to the pub to watch the footie. We went to The Bailey [which is where we could've been on Friday at some point, I'm not sure], which is also Arsenal HQ so we were a bit wary. Then a pit stop outside Victoria after the strenuous Tube ride, ahem, and into a pub who’s name I’ve no idea, a few drinks and then the realisation that we’re pretty f*cked in terms of making our flight and well, not exactly sober. Flight was 8.45, we were in the middle of London and it was 7.30. We jumped onto a Gatwick Express that we didn’t have the right tickets for, thanked the conductor profusely after he let us off paying the extra charge for the Express tickets, that we, ahem, didn’t know we had to pay, we raced to the check in desk. I was really hoping my trolley bag wouldn’t be plastered in approx 10 ‘LAST BAG’ stickers as it had been on the way out and then we raced to the board, went to run to the gate, ran back to the board to check that we had the right gate number and then started to practically shout to people ahead to get out of the way as we were in a hurry. Although, in fairness, what they probably heard first was McSmile shouting at me to hurry up and me telling him I ‘couldn’t in these heels’. We got home in one piece and ordered pizza with the collection of coins splayed across the table in McSmile’s. I was glad I didn’t have work the next day but I didn’t say that too loud to McSmile who did have work the next morning.

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Posted in Boys Boys Boys, The Glitter Files

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London Baby!!

Posted on April 2, 2009 | 2 Comments

  

I CAN’T WAIT I CAN’T WAIT I CAN’T WAIT

I’m off to London Baby!!

‘Dress to Impress’ Evint – check

Posh Guna & Evening Gloves – check

Killer Hells – check

 

Normal posting will resume at some stage

Woo Hoo!!

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Posted in Boys Boys Boys, That Friday Feeling

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Does My Bum Look Big In This?

Posted on March 31, 2009 | 3 Comments

ditaprivatepartyLast Sunday was a blast. It was one of those totally unplanned days that seemed to go on forever, without the knowledge of knowing what would happen next. It started out with McSmile announcing that we should go for brunch – eating out again and drinking during the day AGAIN was sure doing a lot for our plan not to spend the equivalent to the GNP of a small country per weekend.. for the ahem, second weekend in a row since we made the decision. We couldn’t decide where to eat as we strolled into town. The Mermaid Cafe ‘looked too busy’, there was ‘bound to be somewhere in Temple Bar, I ‘didn’t want to eat Mexican’ [Oh the thoughts! My stomach was still very delicate from the night before] and eventually McSmile had the brainwave of ‘Sure let’s just go to X and Y’s place!’, X and Y being friend’s of his that own a great cafe/restaurant in the city centre. Result!

X was there and within 2 minutes a window table was free and ours. As soon as we walked in I just knew it was going to be one of those giggly days that would go straight down the path to copious drinking and general ducking and diving. And maybe it was because we were really just topping up on the alcohol from the night before. X sat with us and started telling us about his recent trip to New Zealand which included getting stranded in the middle of nowhere after a cop took his hire car off him for speeding, a gorge swing from 109m, a ‘meet the parents’ couple of days, hardcore partying with a bunch of strippers and getting his hand bitten by a girl when he wouldn’t give her his drink [only one of these things happened when he was with his girlfriend, guess which one!]

‘Hey, do ye want to go to a fashion show?’ It’s like, I dunno, some kind of fashion show with clothes and girls and stuff. It’s an invite only thing, I’ve a couple of tickets. Says on the invite that there’ll be champagne’

Can you tell where this was going? I was lucky to be able to see at that point, having had a half bottle of vino and then a ‘Fuckit, order another one’ suggestion from McSmile, brought total alcohol up to a bottle of wine, by myselfand about 100 bottles of beer for McSmile. It was about 5pm. Yes, really.

We walked up the stairs, the guys having, of course, asked the poor guy on the door if there was any goody bags on offer and then promptly fell into glasses of champagne. There were rails of clothes and a makeshift catwalk boxed off by two straight lines of tea lights on the wooden floor.

‘So, like, is there going to be like a fashion show thing?, asked McSmile, ‘or do we just drink champagne and look at the clothes on the rails?’ as he walked across the makeshift catwalk, threatening to turn the tea lights  into skittles.

‘Eh hello! You’ve just walked across it!’

‘Oh. Right’.

We perused the clothes, X went off and came back with three more glasses of champagne, the place fell silent and the curtains came back, the show was starting.

The first guy that walked out looked completely morto as he strutted his stuff to a whole gaggle of girls that were obviously mates of his standing right beside us. The next time he came out he looked very reassured to have a ‘real’ model by his side! It was clearly a mix of real and not real models as guys and girls of various heights and weights kept the show on the road for about 20 minutes. Not long into the show, the two lads started getting a bit excited about some of the clothes.

‘Hey. what do you think of that? I think it’s ok, might suit me, right?’

‘Yeah, think it would man, are ye like thinking of getting it?’

After the show there was a general descending onto the clothes rails. McSmile disappeared from my left, X from my right and I was just standing there until one of them called me,

‘Hey Glitter.. what do you think of this shirt? Kinda nice, huh?’

‘Glitter, Glitter, would this go with, y’know the jeans I have, the ones, ye know…’

‘But Glitter, should I try the shirt on? Might as well, huh?’

I was a little shell shocked and decided to put down my empty glass of champagne and sure I could spot that there was still some on offer so feckit, I picked up another glass. I turned around to ask the guys if they wanted another glass. There was McSmile, now sporting a baseball cap, the price tag dangling on his shoulder, he was standing in front of the mirror seeing how it looked with his RayBans that had been pulled out of his pocket. There was a girl from one of the labels talking to him as he turned this way and that, then she handed him a shirt and the two of them were utterly engrossed in conversation.

‘Glitter, so, well, what do you think? I’m not sure. I think I’m too tall for them, they need to be baggier to suit my legs.’

X had now tried on the combats he’d been eyeing up.

‘Hey Glitter! Come over here!’, McSmile needed some reassurance. ‘What about this belt? [Belt! He now had a belt as well!] Is it me though? I’m not sure…’

‘Yes Darling, it’s you, you should get it, really nice… btw, how much stuff have you tried on by now?

‘So Glitter, I’m thinking I won’t get the combats’, X was getting a bit disheartened, ‘But hey! I kinda like this shirt!’

‘Oi! Gerroff! I’m buying that shirt X! And you’re not getting one as well, try on the white one, the collar is really nice, it’d suit you!’

OMG. I was really having to try hard in order to keep a straight face. I had to wander off, pretend to be interested in some of the clothes on the other side of the room, so I just left the drunk little fashion bitches to it for a bit. Now, I too was fairly drunk but I wasn’t causing mayhem, trying on everything in sight and hogging the mirrors so no one else could get near them, I was just walking around in my own champagne haze until I heard my name,

‘Glitter! There’s some jewellery over here!

‘OMG! how much are you actually buying?

‘Well, the shirt, the other shirt, the belt, I’m not sure about the jeans… I’m still deciding on the..’

‘Glitter, I decided to get the white shirt after all, McSmile reckoned I should…’

Oh god, I ended up roaring laughing at the two of them and they laughed as well. And then we celebrated a great afternoon by stumbling across the road to another pub. I’m a bit unsure about things after that.

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Ding Dong the Witch is Gone!

Posted on March 27, 2009 | 5 Comments

Palazzo del Casino

Christian Slater is single again. That is all.

*skips away merrily*

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Simply the Best!

Posted on March 23, 2009 | Leave a comment

grand-slamLads, ye were fantastic. Beyond fantastic! The blame for my loss of breath and subsequent spending an hour looking for my heart after it jumped out of my chest lies squarely with you lot. But, d’ye know what? I’ll forgive you… next time tho, just box it off in the first half, ok?

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Paddy Carried the Lemon

Posted on March 5, 2009 | 1 Comment

As you’re reading this I’ve just finished laughing from the last time I watched this video. Hilarious doesn’t quite do it justice!

Now, the first time I saw ‘Dirty Dancing’ was at a friend’s 16th birthday party. Five or six girls,  no parents, a bucket of popcorn and 2 bottles of fizzy orange. Now I wasn’t quite 16, but I think I was the only one that hadn’t already seen it in the cinema, so it was some treat!

Definitely, the opening bars of this song cause some kind of involuntary reaction in females whereby they just put their heads back and start to sway, while only ever provoking a ‘oh for fooks sake!’ type reaction from the guys. You’re doing it now. You just don’t know it yet. This movie is a classic and this dance routine is a complete gem! You just know that the guys must’ve really practiced as they are extremely coordinated. It could’ve gone all horribly wrong during the lift, but it didn’t, it went splendidly well! And delirah and excirah for themselves they look once back on terre ferme as well! The super coordinated bit is right at the end for the group steps. I happened to be getting ready to go out when this came on and I turned off the hairdryer, watched the whole thing, did a bit of a sway and a sing into my hairbrush and even stayed standing while clapping at the end! Enough to bring a tear to yer eye.

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Posted in Boys Boys Boys, Me Likey Me No Likey

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Shirt Off Your Back

Posted on December 15, 2008 | 10 Comments

irehls0809What a busy weekend! I hadn’t a minute to do anything mundane like laundry or food shopping because I was too busy out enjoying myself! After a late Thursday night, Friday night had been pencilled in for quite some time – one of the Managers in HQ had organised a bit of a football themed night. He got hold of a copy of the [in]famous Ireland V England game from Euro ’88 and what with spots prizes etc, it was being billed as a bit of an Evint!

The place was packed! Packed! As when he showed the 1990 World Cup Ireland V Romania game last August, people arrived in retro jerseys with their voices all warmed up for a bit of a chant. Now, there’s no need to relay what happened in that game, except that barely 10 minutes in there was a cheer that was most likely heard in Lansdowne Road itself!
So, let’s move on to the spot prizes. Where it really gets interesting! Tickets were handed out, free and for gratis as it’s all a bit of craic and sure the drinks companies always cough up a few freebies. First ticket out was mine! A bottle of Jameson, woo hoo! Fourth ticket out belonged to the guy-who’s-making-me-smile and he became the proud owner of a bottle of Chilean Red.
Then the serious stuff – the draw for the signed football shirts! Now, I was either in the ladies or outside having a lovely fag when the tickets were being sold – a fiver each, all of the money going to Cancer Research, good cause, etc – as when I returned, there were two tickets on the ledge beside our drinks, the guy being the purchaser. The first shirt was a goalie’s one, signed by Packie Bonner and wasn’t one young fella sitting by the window delighted when his number was pulled out! I was then asked to draw the ticket for the outfield Ireland jersey, signed by the current team – nice prize, eh? So, I dug deep, had my fingers on a few different tickets, chose one, handed it to the barman and walked back towards my drink.
The number was called out and I was filled with this feeling of ‘OMG! That sounds familiar.. that number sounds very familiar’. Sure enough, I’d pulled out, by total chance, one of our tickets! Oh the shame! I insisted that the guy collect the shirt and I squeezed myself into the nearest corner.
Between the bottles and the shirt, we’d cleaned up! We were both delighted! He handed me the shirt for safe keeping and I promptly shoved it into my bag.
We decided to celebrate in HQ 2 and so off we went. I walked up to one of the Managers I know and asked to see the Champagne Cocktail menu. This was greeted with a sense of shock by the guy and a smile by the Manager. ‘Eh.. Glitter? Where are ye going ordering Champagne Cocktails?’. My reply was simple – ‘Where’s the signed shirt?’. Then he copped on – ‘Ah no! Ah shite! Right! What cocktail do you want? Go on then’. Several Mimosas later I was still reminding him that posession was nine tenths of the law.. hehe… Oh, I was having great fun!
Now, I’m not really sure how it happened or what led up to it but basically, he said he’d pay for a weekend away if I gave him the shirt. Wha? Yeah, really. He even confirmed it when sober the next day, twice. Thing is, he really wanted the shirt and I was going to give it to him anyway! I jokingly, having waaay too much fun with this by now, kept the shirt in my bag and even took it home with me the next day. ‘Until the flight tickets are in my hand! Then we’ll do a swap!’. He even agreed to that. Woo hoo! Barcelona here I come!

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