Critterz.

I was a regular party girl this weekend and went to not one, but two parties with the W.I. ladies. One was owl-themed (with blanket capes and face paint). It was a hoot.


The only odd (read: completely terrifying) moment of the night occurred when I was walking home from New Cross with a nervous skip in my step. I was just rounding the corner of Sanford Street when a car pulled up beside me. The driver wound down the window and asked me if I wanted a lift, then seemed wildly offended when I told him that I was, "okay, thank you" (why I thanked him I don't know). I'm not sure who he took me for. Do people actually get into cars with strange men? Did he not realise that I grew up in the age of stranger danger? I pretty much ran home from there.