Lifts, ladies and booze

Lifts in the building that I work in are rubbish. Since the absence of distinguished VIP's in the building, the whole place has been maintained by bits of string and glue. Every week, there are problems with the lifts. They either don't work, go to the wrong floor, or don't arrive when you press the buttton to go up or down. Normally this is highly irritating. This time around however, it worked a treat. A very attractive Business Relationship Manager happened to be waiting for the lift yesterday afternoon. Small talk ensued. As we entered the lift I exclaimed how poor these lifts were (what a charmer eh!) and how they were prone to breaking down, as she press the button for the ground floor. The doors shut and a short way down the lift stopped working! Miracle. Opportunity fell upon me. A moment to flirt, and perhaps to cheekily ask her out on a date amounted to me jumping up and down to somehow get the lift going again. Oh dear.

The team pub crawl got under way late afternoon. Starting with a merry band of five, which culminated in half of the department cramming themselves into a small bar. I think I managed pint five before heading off home. Except I didn't. A convinient phone call from a friend in the Sports and Social, (considered to be my local drinking establishment) led me to join a merry band of friends on quiz night. Strangely the rest of the night from there on in became a little hazy.

Kebab, and home. Yes, yes, my voluntary ban on kebabs has been lifted. And what a kebab. Seven quid's worth of juicy chicken and lamb flesh.

Incidentally, the lift started working after jumping up and down like a lunatic.