The Bunker...

Today was the last day before S returns to work so we wanted to make the most of it. We had made a list of thing that we wanted to do which ran to several pages but thankfully we have all the time in the world now and don't feel much pressure. We wanted to go to a gallery somewhere but also fancied a bit of a trip out so what we decided upon was a trip to the Bunker, aka CCB, aka Centro Cultural de Belém.

Modern architecture is one of the most controversial aspects of the modern city. Cities like Lisbon I think struggle in this regard because they are filled with such ancient treasures that monstrosities like the CCB can only seem like incongruous intrusions when they're landed next to such beautiful buildings as the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos.

For those not in know here's a comparison:


Now don't get me wrong, they're both beautiful buildings, just not next to each other. I would've said that the monastery could've probably done with some screen to protect it from the views of the river which seem to be exclusively semi-industrial (the people of Almada are so lucky because they get views of Lisbon). That said the CCB can't be completely derided as it's a great arts space. The complex houses exhibition spaces (both for art and business), theatre space and music rooms as well as the obligatory cafe and shop selling arty goods. So even if it does like a cleaned up World War 2 bunker complex it's a deeply interesting one.

The main exhibition has changed somewhat from when S first saw it and was an interesting collection of modern art. I won't say it was a great exhibition but it was certainly thought provoking. There was an interesting Bacon and some good Paula Rego's but a mundane Warhol along with some pedestrian video installations. By the last few galleries I was beginning to think that it really needed an editor as there was no control over the quality and some of the painting were not deserving of display. There were a couple of smaller galleries downstairs, one with a rather tedious take on Goya and the other (which was the highlight for me) an interesting constructivist exhibition featuring works by Joaquín Torres García and Maria Helena Vieira da Silva but after this I was very tired and in real need of a sit down. My art stamina is not what it once was.

For the sit down we decided to head over Pastéis de Belém and have a couple pastéis de nata and a coffee for me. The shop here, next to the monastery, is supposed to sell the best pastéis in Lisbon. That's attested by the sheer size of the place. On my previous visit to the place I did remark that it's the largest public lavatory I'd ever eaten a cake in but mockery doesn't go down well here. They take their cakes very seriously. I personally prefer other pastéis made in a little cafe in Estoril and S has yet another favourite which she has promised to take me to, I find the ones here if anything a little greasy and the pastry too thin but that's just my taste and the coachloads of tourists here seem to enjoy them. It's a place very much on most trourists' itinerary.

On our way to and fro the pastéis we did happen to catch rather a sad and shameful sight. Next to the Pastelaria was the second Starbucks to open in Portugal. This had rather swiftly followed the first which had opened in September in some distant retail park but this was was proudly on display and the saddest sight was that it was well patronised. There is absolutely no need for these chains in Portugal and one of my favourite things about the country was that (despite their obsession with malls) they have a strong and proud culture of supporting independant businesses, especially cafes, restaurants and bars in which excellent coffee, cakes and light meals are cheap. My block alone has a Pastelaria on each corner, my favourite being Namur.

There is some hope that this is a passing phase, McDonalds and Burger King exist here but certainly not to the exclusion of all others and they're seen as an exception rather than the ubiquitous presence in the UK.

So as this is the last evening before S returns to work and I can still get some attention in my direction I will leave this until later...

Até já.

Parabéns a você (part 1)...

Happy Birthday to me!

Today I turned 25 and it has been the best birthday I've had in a while. My birthdays are not usually a day of celebration so I was more than happy to have a day just relaxing, minimum fuss and maximum chilling. This was much to the consternation of S - here in Portugal birthdays are a big deal whether you like it or not. So when I first suggested that I just wanted to spend the day relaxing at home and then call out for pizza this was met with a combination of amazement and disbelief - how dare I be so selfish on my birthday as to not want a fuss made of me!

As I have been rather ill lately (I did indeed spend all of yesterday tucked up in bed, watching episode after episode of Jonathan Creek and teaching S to play Go - note to self - the wearing of body armour whilst playing board games with S is a necessary precaution) and extremely insistent about not wanting a fuss made I was largely successful in my aim for a relaxed birthday but I did have to make a number of concessions. We would need to leave the flat at some point and there would be no takeaway but we could make our own pizzas.

It has now taken me over 8 months to realise this but I am engaged to a ninja, either that or I was slipped something in my Ovaltine last night because S managed to successfully sneak out this morning to get my birthday card and cake without waking me and I'm not the heaviest sleeper in the world, especially in the morning. Here is a great photo of what I woke up to this morning:



After stuffing as much of the bola de Berlim as I could manage down me I got up and we went to the Oceanarium. I was thinking here that few things could be more relaxing than a couple of hours watching the fish and thankfully I was right.

The Lisbon Oceanarium is a relic of the Expo in 1998 which the area around undergoing a huge redevelopment. The Parque des Nações houses the Oceanarium, The Vasco da Gama Shopping centre (along with self cleaning roof) and tower, as well as some cable cars and evidently one of the most popular make-out spots for the teenagers of Lisbon.

The day was lovely and we saw the fish getting up their antics. The Oceanarium really is a must see for anyone visiting Lisbon for the first time, someone once told me it was the largest of its kind in Europe!

Here is me outside it:



After a couple of hours with the fish and the screaming children (including one unfortunate enough to be called Bruna) we decided to head home but not first with out an obligatory visit to the shopping centre. S had seen some brown boots that she was raving over and her parents had offered to get me something for my birthday so I decided to get another pair of pants - some rather funky checked ones. They're hard to describe but they look pretty good on (much to the surprise of S who had turned her nose up at them originally!) I also got a 'cowboy' shirt because I wanted something to wear on Saturday and S refuses to let me wear my rather tight one for fear that the poppers will explode thus exposing me to the masses.

When we got home we were pretty shattered but we still managed to make a couple of lovely pizza and now I'm about to settle down to finish off some Jonathan Creek and put my padding on for another couple of games of Go

Lazy Sunday with the parents...

The cold is steadily getting worse and worse now. I'm pretty much bed bound today and have no plans to leave the flat if I can possibly help it. My body has held on until I got here and now my immune system has had enough. I was really impressed that I managed to avoid all the bugs going round the office but the combined germs of the shopping centre and downtown have done for me.

I really don't feel like writing much today so I'll be brief and then I can return to my pit of self pity and scrunched up tissues.

Yesterday was a nice relaxing day with the in-laws again. It somehow (raised eyebrow here) got back to S's mum that I had a special liking for the way she cooked ribs so that was what we got. I feel very guilty because the I was also the one responsible for us having lamb for New Year so I really need to stop dictating what is cooked for us.

As expected the ribs were amazing, this time in some sauce with hints of garlic and tomatoe and of course served with plenty of punched potatoes but also this time with some creamed spinach and more carrots that I'd eaten in a long time. I love to heap on the vegetables at times like this. I was well looked after as I think S's mum thinks I've lost too much weight and so she was piling on second and third helpings. S's dad also opened a bottle of something rather interesting, a red vinho verde which was sweeter than I normally like my reds but fruity and went well with the meal. We just had a bit of fruit for desert as I think everyone was feeling the festive excesses and we had other plans...

After dinner we went down to the little cafe, Mimosa, near their flat for some coffee, pasteis de nata and to meet some friends. This was the first time I had met F, her husband and children (who were adorable!) but F had given me lots of advice in emails before I came. She's British and moved here about 15 years ago, works here and married a Portuguese man. She's given me lots of tips on finding work and settling in. I wanted to thank her and have a chat. I managed the first but the second was soon forgotten as we were entertaining her 6 year old daughter with origami and magic tricks and the sock monkey that S had made for her.

S learnt an important lesson there - the sock monkeys she makes might be made with love and care but they have to be pretty damn strong to survive the love of a 6 year old.

After the coffees and goodbyes we decided to go to see S's aunt and uncle who live nearby and who wanted to wish us congratulations. It was very touching how pleased they were for us and they'd even made a desert for us. The don't speak a word of English so communication was a bit stilted but I understood most of what was being said, it was just frustrating that I couldn't join in. I got to meet the huge cat they have too, although she seemed a bit grumpy at being woken to meet this strange Englishman. We stayed for about 20 minutes but it was getting quite cold, I was quite snotty and we were tired so we headed back.

On the way home we decided to stop by Parque Eduardo VII to see the Christmas tree which was still up. Last time I was in Lisbon before now was the day before they put the lights on so it was nice to see it in its full glory. we got out of the car and had a little walk, bought some chestnuts and sat on a park bench eating them. It was really a lovely moment despite people trying to sell us flashing neon necklaces. I can't wait to go back there for the book fair.

We got back in and S fancied watching something so we streamed some new American series called True Blood. It was ok, watchable but I don't think particularly memorable other than having Vinnie from Home & Away in it and having quite a lot of sex scenes in it. (Amusingly S had originally seen this with her dad.)

Right, I'm off to have a hot drink.

Survival of the sales part 2...

Yesterday was the day S and I braved downtown. Downtown Lisbon is lovely in moderation but as with any large cities Saturdays are when the streets get horribly crowded and the shops are impossible. We were feeling brave after the success of yesterday but my cold was getting worse by the minute to the point where all I could concern myself with was where the next tissue was coming from.

S and I are very lucky where we live because it's busy enough to always feel like there's something happening - we're a minute away from a great theatre cum gallery, there are at least 5 cinemas within walking distance as well as very good restaurants and 3 or 4 shopping centres, but it never feels too crowded. (except when we're looking for a parking space and there's a play on). We also have the metro at the end of our street which we took to Baixa.

I'll write more later about the Lisbon metro as it's more than deserving of a post of its own but by the time we got to Baixa the streets were full and it was already feeling a bit oppressive. The shops here are largely the same as the ones in the shopping centre but S had it in mind to dig out a pair of boots she'd been lusting after, as it turns out the shop didn't have them but I did end up getting a hoodie for around the flat as well as a pair of warm slippers because it's so damn cold at the moment.

I also managed to get a SIM card for my mobile so I finally have a Portuguese mobile number. Not that I really know anyone here other than S and her circle (and a couple of others) It will however save me a small fortune in receiving calls from the UK as well as sending messages there, it's still expensive but doesn't compare with what my old provider was charging me. We also tried to set up a landline at the Vodafone shop but the assitant didn't seem to know what she was talking about. We're thinking it's easier to arrange online or at least by ourselves rather than have to fix the meddlings of some woman.

I had hoped to go the the Nespresso shop whilst I was downtown but here the curious Portuguese solution to queueing came in useful. In many of the busier shops (mobile phone shops are particularly fond of this) they operate the system people in the UK are familiar with from the deli counter or Argos, you take a number and wait for it for it to show on the screen. Perhaps I don't go shopping in the right shops in the UK but it was a real curiosity when I came here. I just didn't understand why people didn't just queue up. One possible explaination came when I tried to buy coffee and the number that came out was over 200 places behind what was on the screen. I could've quite easily wandered the streets for an hour and come and taken my place again in the shop but instead I decided to leave it for another day and resort to the odd roadside bica now and then.

We couldn't stay downtown too long, not that we really wanted to anyway - I think it has a bit of a mournful, empty feeling when the shops have closed, as we had another dinner party to go to, this time at J & R's. We did however stop for a quick drink at this cafe that sells plastic shoes and vintage kaftans and other dresses of curtain-like material. It was only noticable for possibly the worst pastel de nata I have had in Lisbon.

Returning to the flat before dinner I was sure to fill myself up on medication and we went well prepared with packets of tissues in every pocket and up every sleeve. Despite the cold I was really looking forward to going and having the opportunity to have a nosey around a friend's flat and to experience J's cooking which I have been told many times before is fantastic. I'm always being to told I should try J's bacalhau.

Their flat is lovely and charming, I think just the right mixture between his interests (walls filled with DVDs and a guitar) and her touches (a giant cityscape of New York, a city that R is far from enamoured by, almost entirely covers one wall). The flat is fairly modern and stylish, in a large and imposing block not very far from mine and S's. We were the first to arrive as we were dining that night with S & R who are always bringing up the rear in these types of gathering.*

We entered to a typical sight - R(J) watching the football. His team, Sporting, were playing so there was small football chat which is hard for me at the moment. There being only ever 3 teams here that challenge for the title (and usually not even all 3), Sporting, Benfica and Porto people tend to follow one of the big three but they also follow English football quite closely too. I've been keeping my eye on Man United but here I think it's pretty much expected of me to follow Benfica, that is if I ever want to be able to talk to my father-in-law again. Unfortunately as yet I'm not to knowledgable about Portuguese football other than Benfica are currently leading the Liga.

S & R(S) soon arrived and we started the meal which was an excellent Bacalhau com Natas. My first time trying this popular dish. It was delicious but I felt a bit samey, I thought S's bacalhau dish from New Years Eve was more interesting. Saying that though J's was very well done and I loved the crispy bit at the top.

For desert we had a Torta de laranja and a coconut one that I forget the name of, all of which was followed by whiskey and baileys and good conversation. We then played on the Wii for a bit, a few quizes which were in English, giving me a bit of an advantage and then R(S) showing just how game he was. We made him get into the hardest yoga positions we could find.

We went home full and happy.

Today it's back to the parents' for a lazy Sunday lunch and more mauling from the cat.

*I've just realised that I've got 2 Rs in this piece so I will differentiate it will be R(J) and R(S) for now.

Survival of the sales part 1...

Typical! I manage to go for months through the driving rain, the burning cold, the whipping wind of Manchester and I finally get to Portugal and I catch a cold. To be fair though all those people who expressed jelousy at my change in cilmate really should visit here in the winter. Never before have I experienced such poor forward planning for winter, most windows are single glazed, there's no central heating anywhere and the houses are designed to let the blistering summer heat out which in winter creates the strange phenomena of it being warmer outside than inside. I have to wear a jumper all the time indoors now.

My cold could also have something to do with the sheer number of people I was around yesterday and the miriad of germs they were carrying. We decided to brave the sales and I know S was missing her retail therephy (I don't think I've met anyone as well dressed as S, in an understated way). I was very poor but in desperate need of at least one more pair of pants and some shoes so we headed to Colombo, a huge city centre shopping centre next to the Benfica football ground.

One thing Portugal is not short of is shopping malls. The Portuguese are mad about these palaces of consumerism and I've even had C raving about ones such as the Vasco da Gama centre (with waterfalls over the glass ceiling - which just look like they're being washed constantly). To me they're all the same, the same shops just in more or less confusing arrangements.

There are just about two clothes shops in Portugal I would shop in (for some reason the Portuguese H & M is rubbish) and that's Pull & Bear and Springfield. One of my long running comments on the Portuguese is that they dress in such a conservative fashion. Walking down the streets you do get the impression that their mother's choose their clothes, sometimes this is true in people up to their mid 30s. Added to that all the clothes look brand new, there's not a scuff mark, stain or rip (with one exception today!) in anyone's clothes which often gives the impression of either being in a film or a Daz advert. I've had a little think about this and can only assume that Portugal being so poor for so long has issues with apparent poverty. I will always remember a comment made by a Portuguese friend regarding my favourite pair of converse which had been lovingly tended to a state of near collapse and it was remarked that I could wear them to park cars (a common job for the homeless is finding parking spaces). I've had numerous conversations with Portuguese friends about this and it's just a cultural different that's difficult to understand.

So I'm left with these two shops, neither of which are great but which do have some good lines. I don't buy a lot of clothes, that should be emphasised at this point but I do have set ideas on what I like and back in the UK this usually led me to vintage or charity shops or shall independant shops, with the occassional visit to Topman, H & M or Primark for essentials. Now the charity/vintage shops here are practically non existance. Their lack is merely emphasised by the fact the the one or two that do exist will no doubt be pointed out to me. The same is true for the independant shops but these seem to consist of 'boutiques' in Bairro Alto that charge €40 for a t-shirt. There's just no equivalent to Pop or its ilk, or if there is then please please point me in its direction.

Saying this though I was rather pleased with my purchases. I got a pair of gray cord trousers and some smart(ish) trainers which will be perfect for work. It wasn't too painful and they were under €40 for the lot. I spent a long time having a shirt pushed on me by S but in the end I declined, I fancied being a bit more colourful but there was nothing that caught my eye.

Happy with my clothes purchases we decided to do a bit of food shopping as there is a massive Continente supermarket there but as it turns out we didn't end up buying much. We were disappointed with the quality of the meat and most of the other stuff on our list can be bought either cheaper or of better quality from our local supermarket - Pingo Doce.

By the time we got home I was starting to feel a bit ill and very tired. Ashamedly I fell asleep through the film - Last Year In Marienbad - much to S's amusement as it's her who is normally guilty of that. I woke up today feeling a little horrible but I'm medicated up and prepared to face the sales downtown now!

It's a new dawn, a new day, a new life...

When I woke up yesterday I had the strangest feeling of not having a clue where I was. It took me a good minute or so to realise that I was next to the most beautiful woman in the world. That kind of shock it not easy to get over and is something that still amazes me on a daily basis. I couldn't believe that after all the hard work, the stress, the tears, the risks it came down to the simple pleasure of watching another human sleep.


There was to be, however, little chance for reflection on New Years Day. We had rather an important task before us - we were going round to Estoril to the in-laws for me to be welcomed to Portugal and also for us to break the news to them that some scruffy, unemployed Manc was trying to marry their wonderful daughter.

I love S's parents so much, they're so friendly and generous and they really look after us. I was a little nervous about telling them about the engagement but I had no real reason to be, S has assured me enough times that the really like me and have accepted me into the family and this was perfectly illustrated when the news was broken to them. They took the news totally in their stride, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and they were totally expecting it, we spent barely a couple of minutes on congratulations before we moved onto lunch.

Lunch, as always when S's mum cooks, was a delicious affair. Tender roast lamb cooked with rosemary and garlic, punched potatoes, and cauliflower and sprout gratin all covered in one of the tasiest gravies I have ever had. There was more than enough and my place kept being refilled, as did my glass. It really amused me when I first went to S's parents for a meal and we would all have wine and S would be given juice by her parents but now I know why, you have to be able to really handle your drink during these big lunches.

After the main course there was a selection of lovely desert's, fresh fruit, dried figs stuffed with walnuts, tarts and a lovely christmas cake that S's mum had made and which was a rememberance of their time in England. During desert I had to endure the initiation rites into the family which seems to consist of having your groin mauled by a psychotic cat, all whilst maintaining a straight face and continuing the conversation. I love the family cat, she's so beautiful but she just has this habit of attaching herself to me when I'm at the dinner table.

We left with our bellies full and pleased that they'd taken it so well. It was a lovely drive home along the Marginal, seing the waves crash on the beach in the darkness and this was my first glance at the sea since I arrived and it had never really occurred to me as something I would miss but it brought back a lot of memories for me.

Returning to the flat we just had a relaxed evening in. After such a large lunch it was just soup for dinner and then we watched an excellent film - Lilya-4-Ever - very moving.

Panic on the streets of London...

The NYE party went amazingly well but more of that later, I want first to recount my epic journey of yesterday.

I'm feeling rather jet lagged at the moment even though Lisbon is just a matter of a couple of hours from the UK but this is mostly my own fault. For some unfathomable reason the airlines of the UK (and Portugal - they don't get off the hook that easily) have decided to stop running direct flights from the North (Manchester or Liverpool) to Lisbon. My choice would've been to go from the North to either Porto or Faro - not an ideal situation given Portugal's infrequent public transport system - or fly from London and travel down the night before. I much preferred the latter option as this way I could say goodbye to some friends that I don't get to see very often and also say goodbye to my old 'manor' so I booked my flight for early on the 31st from Luton.

I had my itinerary planned down to the minute but it was still really rather nerve wracking having to haul all my stuff through the streets of London. It is perhaps a little silly considering I used to live there for a year and never had any trouble but I was aware that I was going to be walking the streets of some of the rougher areas and this time I had extremely valuable cargo - the engagement ring I planned to propose with on my arrival. That ring caused me so many headaches because I dared not put it in one of my bags in case someone lifted it from the pub or snatched it in the street. It alternated then back and forth between my coat to my jeans (thus producing a rather startling bulge in my pants) but I felt much more at ease having it on my person. I did at one point contemplate that should the worse happen and and some gang stop me in Camberwell I'd throw my rucksacks at them and hotfoot it away with the ring safe and sound.

The plan was to leave my mum's house at around 12:30 on the 30th, get the train down to Euston arriving at around 16:30 and then heading down to New Cross for a few drinks with C & R, H and P. There was some debate as to whether we should head to the Hobgoblin or the Montague. I'll miss the Montague but I thought the Hobgoblin the safer choice, both for people getting back and due to the fact that I didn't really want to be walking around Peckham at night with my rucksacks. The Hobgoblin was also of course the scene of one of my great pub quiz successes, something that was sadly never to be repeated with my London Crew.

It was great to see those guys, C & R and P I hadn't seen since Barcelona and I hadn't seen H since her flat warming party in February so obviously there was a lot of catching up to do. No-one seemed particularly surprised by move and C was I think a little jealous of the ring in my pocket. She wants R to propose and even has the ring and has planned the wedding but has heard nothing yet from R.

H is doing well, she's considering doing a PhD at Oxford in 17th Century Literature which would be very interesting but I'm not sure where it would lead to for her. I really can't see H in an academic career, she's as cynical about it as me, if not more so and so it's probably just an excuse to avoid getting a proper job. She's getting by at the moment stuffing envelopes and setting English exams but she seemed pretty relaxed about it and was even talking about buying a houseboat with her brother.

C was doing a lot worse in the real word. She's finding the reality of being an English teacher a lot more difficult than she ever imagined. She never thought it would be easy but it has come as somewhat of a shock to her just how difficult it is. I think though that some of this pressure comes from herself. She holds herself to impossibly high standards and always has to be the best. I'm sure things will begin to settle down when she's into her second year. She was all full of excitement for me though and talking about plans for moving to New York to work as a teacher there . (This news immediately got S excited about the possibility of visiting.)

After the drinks (only a few ales for me as I had an important journey to undertake) and the talks, at around midnight, I had to say goodbye and got on my bus heading for Victoria. Amusingly the bus ride was not without drama which was what I feared but as it turned out was quite underwhelming. Just before Vauxhall Bridge some drunken guy tried to get on the bus with his girlfriend. He had just missed it but rather than wait for the next one he decided to force open one set of the back doors which in turn stalled the bus and meant we all had to get off and change. I really did think some of the other passengers were going to inflict violence on this young chap but I think by this time it was so cold that people just wanted to get where they were going.

I finally got to Victoria, found my coach and jumped on. I then spent the next 20 minutes watching the open luggage door like a hawk in case someone tried their luck with my large rucksack (by this time the ring was safely still in my pants pocket, digging in to my leg in such a way that made the vigil much easier). We then set off for Luton and I had 4 and a half rather uncomfortable hours on the departure lounge floor waiting for the check-in to start. I kept myself amused in these small hours with a by reading José Peixoto's Blank Gaze, Nigel Williams' The Wimbledon Poisoner and wondering about women who appear in the airport at 4 in the morning with immaculate hair and make-up.

The flight itself was pretty undramatic which as far as I'm concerned is definitely the best kind of flight. I failed to get more than a combined total of about 2 hours sleep in the entire day because sleep in public makes me really uncomfortable, I must've had some really cruel friends in the past.

I landed in Lisbon at about 9:30 and there was my love waiting for me in arrivals, I have to admit looking very nonchalant. I was a bag of nerves and rather dishevelled. My face covered in the ratty 2 day growth of stubble and as spotty as a teenager. All the stress of previous months has had the most unfortunate effect on my complexion. I was thankfully whisked away from the airport back home - something which felt totally natural and normal. I am really starting to see these streets as my own and I can't describe how good it is to see the large greeny-blue domes and red brick of Campo Pequeno. It really felt like everything had fallen into place and my heart could finally be at ease.

Whilst my heart was now at ease my body still had lots of work to do...the NYE party needed lots of work! Considering the fatigue I was now feeling it seemed a little rash to agree to host a party on the night I was arriving into the country but thankfully it had been arranged that me and S would provide starters and drinks and everyone else would bring the food. We prepared a few starters, some roast sweet potato, home made tuna pâte, hummus and other nibbles along with plenty of beer, wine, whisky and a surfeit of excellent caipirinhas, the tasting and perfecting of which got me and S very much in the party mood.

People arrived from around 8:30 onwards and some excellent food arrived with them, the dishes included pork with chestnuts, walnut rice, bacalhau with potatoes and mixed vegetables and then for desert there was a lovely chocolate tart, a strange cream and biscuit desert and a good sponge cake. The food went down very well and it was such a relief not to have to do all the cooking. One of favourite things about this relationship is the dinner parties we go to and throw ourselves but I think if I'd been forced to cook for 9 people I would've broken down at this point. Instead everything was very laid back and I felt totally guilty free having a couple of drinks.

After the food midnight came upon us and we all hugged and kissed and opened some champagne. We toasted the new year well and there was also wine enough to toast mine and S's engagement which I had mumbled my way through earlier in the day.

It was at this point that the real party started but I was unfortunately beginning to lag. My music had not been received with much enthusiasm thus far so I gladly lent the reins to DJ J and her party mix of the year. This was a real floor filler and soon my living room was a jumble of gyrating arms and legs with the men of the group sitting sullenly on the outside. R then had the bright idea of introducing a little karaoke to the proceedings...and so began the epic Drunken Soft Rock Karaoke 2009. No one was innocent, no one escaped but thankfully all audiovisual evidence has been hunted down and destroyed. After what some may have thought of as the defining version of You Give Love a Bad Name I could barely keep my eyes open and I retired to my new bed, ready to begin my new life in the morning.