>>>>>Killing Time<<<<<

Props and other such Tim Westwood-style patois due to The Paddingtons. They gave good gig. I drank too much. It tends not to mix well with my prescripted medication. Well, you have to blame something for the stinking hangover, eh? Anything but all that lager. Given how my old rickety knees are feeling, moved way too much too. It was fun. Friendly, easy-going company. A couple of hours at the theatre beforehand, checking out Up On Roof for the second time. That's where the trouble started. I had imbibed a good few pints before we even took up our red velvet seats. Talked to some actors, one of whom's about to be in a film with Demi Moore and ate a bizarre buffet snack - a bite sized toad in the hole. Was less than coherent by the time we set off for The Welly but chose not to stop my consumption. I'm a fool. Ended the night stealing a bottle of beer off Josh Hubbard. Bloody freeloading journalists, eh? Although, looking at the bits of loose change I've got left, am not sure if freeloading's the word. Where my money at?