On the transformational properties of Champagne

I went to a work related drinks reception last night. It was in one of the big hotels in the Piccadilly/St James's area. Strange how a few free glasses of average bubbly can transform one's mood. I trudged in a bored, defeated middle-aged man treading water until he hits the grave but wafted out a juiced-up, high energy, witty, party/babe fiend.

I made my way to Piccadilly circus and was calling an agency to meet one of their girls. As I was standing and talking a young blond girl caught my eye. I smiled, she smiled. mmmmm.

I was still on the phone however and the blond drifted away with her female friend. After a couple of calls to the agency the girl I wanted wasn't available so I decided to give up. I turned the corner to walk down Lower Regent Street and noticed the blond was still there waiting by the underground entrance. Buoyed up by free bubbly I went up to her and asked her if she wanted to come for a drink with me (this is at 10.30). She said yes.

Chatted for an hour in a pub behind Lower Regent Street (can't remember the name). Despite having a distinctly east European accent she said she was from Germany. Great body, lovely hair, nice blue eyes. Said she was in a gap year doing work experience in London. But she was working in a shop, Louis Vuitton in Bond Street. She later admitted that she was originally from the Ukraine but had a German passport.

Wanted to fuck her (duh) but got her number along with a peck on the cheek. Might call her. Let's see if I can be bothered to put the effort in.