What number was this? I tried to count back the drinks I'd had that night. My head was spinny and I couldn't get past seven without forgetting what I was trying to count. I shouldn't have mixed that cheap white rum with that cheap wine. I'm a fool. So was everyone else though so it was ok. We bumped into Katie, a friend of a friend no one had seen in ages and we were smiles and nods then, happy to be all drunk together and be involved.
We stumbled across the hippodrome, all loud voices and big gestures that had already annoyed the neighbour, some round angry man in a pink polo shirt and boxer shorts on the landing talking to us all cranky toned, asking us to walk less loudly. Where were we going? There wasn't a plan, there never was. I delved into my bag for filters but took the box out too quickly and little white sticks scattered all over the floor. I knelt down on the wet ground and picked up all but one, maybe someone else would need that.
By the time we got to Mr Wolfs I was just lighting up, and sat in a doorway while the smoke filled my lungs and made my head all light and breezy. Then into the queue we went and near the front I saw Katy G and yelled across to her with too much gusto. She came and hugged me and everyone else moved past me and into the dark and dingy room while I stood out in the rain, which eventually hit my cigarette and extinguished it.
We moved inside, past the guy on the door and past the queue of people, and straight to the bar. We swapped digits and talked about alcohol and the men we didn't miss and how they were all missing other girls now anyway, and planned to play music and everything seemed like a great idea.
My old friend Kate appeared then and grabbed me by the hand and led me straight onto the dance floor where we twirled and shook and looked at all the drunken people we were with and the madness of the birthday boy.
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