This is a tale of sorrow, merriment and
joy. But I will have to start from the beginning.
So this Boxing Day, myself and my roommate watched movies, ate a second Christmas dinner and then went to find some great bargains in the Liverpool sales. We did pretty well, so we came home, ate cheese and crackers on a nifty cheese board I had rustled up (Hannah was very impressed with my presentation as usually I just lump meat on a plate and Bon appetite). I sprinkled rocket on to a side plate alongside some salmon and yes, again I drank some baileys.
After another baileys we went to the pub where we shared two bottles of wine. Therefore we transformed into a pair of giggly girls on our way home. I remembered that I still needed to clean out Jessica Day’s cage as for the next week I am away visiting family in hull and my best friend in Edinburgh. Busy little B. So I put Jessica in her beloved ball and cleaned the cage.
We then thought it would be a great idea to ring our other housemate and try and speak Spanish to her. This failed as she was asleep. I rang her boyfriend. But who picked up the phone was not her boyfriend. Oh no. It was another boy who shares the same name. Instantly I remembered who this boy was, and yes, because it’s me and bad things happen to me, we had rung a boy I met in Malia during the summer of 2012.
Crying with both laughter and embarrassment, we went to bed. I then realised that I had left Jessica in her ball. So I came downstairs, boobs out as I thought this would be a quick job and it was a hot night, yet low and behold THE BALL WAS BARE. She had escaped, the little minx. I frantically put on a coat and made my roommate help in the search.
Where was she? I hear you ask. Under the sofa. Again. We shone a light in her face to coax her out and after a few attempts she climbed back into her ball of fun. After this traumatic experience I only thought it necessary to eat gateaux, chocolate cake, Pringles and chocolate orange.
I threw up three times this morning.