R and I went out for a meal after work to celebrate the fact that she is now the only person on her street with a British driving licence (i.e. everyone else is Polish).
We went to Zizzi's and washed down our Rissotos with Appletise(r), Apple Juice, a new cocktail called Tap Water and four pots of tea thorugout the night.
We were slightly paranoid that the young waitress would think we were a bit wierd/religious/boring for not drinking, so R explained, "We've given up alcohol for six weeks'.
"Well I've given up alcohol myself," the waitress replied and had an odd smug look on her face that we both read as "I'm pregnant".
She then explained that she'd simply not had a drink because she'd been working alot, and also her friends hadn't been up for a night out in all that time.
I felt vaguely sad for this urchin like waitress, until we witnessed her eating a spaghetti bolognese. It was not unlike the scene in Big when Tom Hanks and his bezza mate pretend to squirt silly string out of their noses in a hotel room.
There's always a reason that no-one invites you out for two months, love.
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