Working behind the bar tonight, in some ways it felt like I'd never been away. All the same people, drinking the same drinks, cracking the same jokes. Busy night, but not too busy for a rusty barmaid. I'd forgotten how sticky I felt by the end, though. And how much people comment on bits of my body (somebody else's body, that girl's body). "You shouldn't go sleeveless, love, it doesn't suit you." You know what? I don't give a toss. It's hot behind the bar. If I wore long sleeves, I would sweat like a pig. And it's the same fucking beer even if the woman who serves it to you is ugly, isn't it.
20 quid cash will come in handy though. Particularly since I left my wallet (and, incidentally, house keys) in work. (STUPID.)
Not sure I can cope with parties tomorrow. Or in fact getting out of bed. Except that I have to work at Oxfam tomorrow. Bed after that, I think.
