Oozing attitude – don’t mess with us, mate –, the owls catch my eye. Judgmental lot.
I won’t return to this pub – terrible choice of wall decoration, puts punters off their beer when they go the loo. The owly death stares remind me of Rita. She’ll, no doubt, give me one of hers when I stumble in later.
On the return leg, I focus on the stag – doe-eyed like Melli. She’s waiting, no doubt – I said I’d come back to hers. But I catch another glimpse of the owls’ disapproval. Smug lot.
Honestly, this isn’t how I expected to spend New Year’s Eve. Mum had to cover for another nurse at short notice – again – and felt bad for leaving me on my own. So she asked Aunty Callie and Callie said, ‘yes if she’ll come to the bowling alley.’ Bowling sounded boring, but Callie’s cool. Her friends are, too. And one of them brought his teenage brother along, Colin. I quite like Colin. We make a good bowling team even though we keep messing around.
I hope Colin’ll kiss me at midnight.
Somehow, I’ve ended up in the right place by accident.