Good Intentions

Oh crumbs. They say that the road to hell is paved with good intention, and it certainly seemed so last night. I'd been to my Buddhism class and was determined to make an early night of it afterwards. I popped into Edin's for a quick pint before the bedlam hit Broad Street. I knew it was coming - the Nottingham Creative Business Awards ceremony had been taking place yesterday evening and I guessed that everyone would be returning from the event for the (now infamous) after-party at Broadway. My plan was to escape before it did. Sadly, after leaving Edin's, I was persuaded to have just one more waffer-thin drink in Broadway and I thought I had time to do this before the havoc descended (and before I was sucked into the usual vortex). Unfortunately, I mis-calculated the time of the arrival of the mob. My escape was blocked.

Before I could say: 'No, I'm going home', I was surrounded by the crème de la crème of Nottingham's creative talent and the Malay (as they say) had run amok. Susi from Eternal Spirits had won an award, so she required a celebratory drink; my old pal novelist Nicola Monaghan had won one too, so she was likewise in the spirit of the samba; Rachel & Al from Wellington Films had also won, so they were up for dancing on the tables too. What carnage then ensued; what absolute carnage. I felt a bit sorry for the unsuspecting Broadway staff who had expected a quiet (and early) night, only to be called upon to serve copious and ever-flowing alcoholic refreshments to an abandoned rabble of reprobates. If only I'd have slipped quietly home as planned, I wouldn't have such a sore head this morning. And Sarah Davenport, wearing shoes, looked like an absolute movie-star. Stunning!

However I have some good (if rather banal) news to report: Yesterday the plumbers confirmed that the human waste, ever-flowing into the Chinese restaurant below, is not mine (as I suspected). This is an encouraging development indeed, and means that the recalcitrant managing agents of this decrepit building will now have to sort the problem, with no expense to myself. Way-hey! At last, a result. And guess what? My meditation session at Buddhism actually worked!

Now, where is that whisky bottle...?