Hanging about

Is it a sign of getting old when you feel a bit hanging after 2 ciders? Because in that case I’m ooooold. Oh well, won’t stop me behaving like a kid. 

Yesterday I spent the day in a state of constant panic having to talk to estate agents. I hate the phone. I’ve even made dad use FaceTime so I can see his face. But estate agents love phones.
So phone it is. 
By the end of the day I was dead looking forward to dinner and drinks with Albin who’s in town. 
Me and Woolly waited and waited. And snapchatted our waiting. Will anyone truly know your suffering if it’s not on social media? 
It turned out he was happily on his way to the wrong pub. 
Woolly was not impressed. ‘I’ve waited for you for 1.5 years and now you make me wait another 30 min. What kind of monster are you’ 
But all is well that ends well. Albin showed up, we had food and eventually Katta swung by after work in time to take this ‘am I going to kiss you or have I just missed you’ photo. 
Today two viewings and dinner out and about. Living the London dream 

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