A rest from the weekend

You'll forgive me if I get an early night, for it's been a weekend full of drunken babbling and I am, for want of a better way of putting it, cream fooking crackered.

Friday night was Best Mate's leaving do, for she is deserting me and moving all the way across London, leaving me with far fewer wine glasses and nowhere to turn when the milk runs out. Tut. So sorrows needed drowning in The Lot, which is a student pub very much in the spirit of Richmond: the beer is cheap, but the students are appreciatively well scrubbed. The majority of the time was spent upsetting them with camera flashes and lamenting the long climb to the loos.

Then last night we celebrated our Glitterati status with the opening party for Mojo - Laura was rightfully thrilled to welcome about 100 people through the doors. There were so many positive comments from skin lovers, one of whom confessed she'd actually bought a patch of land nearby, to be closer to the shop, and the party was still going at 4am after a full 7 hours of good company and silliness.

Of course, the bits you always remember are the cock-ups, so last night will stick in my mind for the stream problems - which meant we were treated to an ultra-slow version of Take That's Rule the World and Timbaland's Give it to Me sung by chipmunks - and the raffle ball, which had a mind of its own and was a complete Willock about everything.

In fact, it gave out so many free belt buckles, completely ignoring the manicures it was supposed to be gifting, that we've decided to build a fort out of them, with eyelashes for pillows. Strange mental image...

So that's that, I need some sleep now - I have to get the energy together to take my huffy teenaged brother to see Linkin Park tomorrow. Cripes. Night all!