A friend of mine from school had arranged a 60s/70s/80s night (for charidee!), and had invited a whole load of people from the student tv station along. Except there were very few of them there. Instead it was mostly people who had gone to my school - people I hadn't seen in over a year. (I also had trouble finding the people I was supposed to be meeting, and spent twenty minutes standing on my own in a bar. Not fun.)
I didn't really think I had changed that much, but it's amazing what contact lenses and a bit of gel in the hair can do. Five or six people didn't recognise me at all, and the look on their faces when they realised who I am was really quite priceless.
I felt a little, um, rough when I got home and into bed, but was fine by the morning, which is a Good Thing.
Being a nice boy, I had agreed to drive my great aunt into town to help her buy a new TV. I managed to come up with a fairly good argument for her to get a widescreen set, but I think she may be going against my advice and not buying from John Lewis. And I think I may have solved the problem of her VCR not working right by switching on PDC. Good Thing.
Next stop - Sandy's house for a bit of network gaming. I appear to have acquired an imaginary gay partner - shortly after I walked in, Stewart said that getting off with Winston last night was disgusting, and the joke ran on. I'm sure I'll be stuck with Winston for the rest of my life.
Happy birthday yam