After work I head into town to meet Will. It's been ages since we hung out and I'm looking forward to getting there, but it's a freezing cold night and The Cock is absolutely rammed. Luckily K is early for her later plans and is there already having reserved a square of floor space by the fire. We have a pint with Tim before Will turns up. The lanky one eventually arrives and we have fun catching up over talk of this week's student "riots" and next week's impending FIFA decision on the location of the 2018 and 2022 World Cups - which is all good fun and guaranteed to alienate everyone around us. So be it.
At around 8 K and the others say goodbye - they're off to do karaoke in a launderette in Soho (naturally) and so Will and I get another pint in. The Cock starts to get a bit quieter but we still can't get a seat for love nor money, so we decide to walk up Oxford Street to another Sam Smiths pub nearer Holborn tube, The Angel. This is, predictably, also packed, but we take up residence between the dartboard and the men's bogs and take a couple more drinks. Later on, Alex turns up fresh from having seen a play called War Horse down the road and we chat merrily as closing time approaches.
Later still, Alex and I find ourselves enjoying a late pint at Turnpike Lane's premier gay pub (i.e. it has a rainbow flag outside and literally no one else inside) as it's the only place still serving - but after being stared at by some of TPL's weirder residents we decide it's probably time for bed.
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