Or at least that is what I am told. It was one of the boys wedding this weekend (one of the boys from Amsterdam) so off to Aintree racecourse we went with Ikea vouchers in hand. I had been looking forward to the wedding for a while and to my surprise I bumped into the Liverpool Night Life Columnist and the Liverpool Fashion Columnist. I had not seen them since they tried to persuade me to go back to the Blue Angel on my birthday for some blue vodka slush which is the establishment's trademark drink. That stuff is potent.
The wedding was great and everything went well. Bride looked beautiful, food was tasty and I danced like Carlton Banks which is expected and on occasions is demanded of me. The dancing was broken up with revelations about the stag do from the rest of the Amsterdam 10. The favourite story among the group was how an inflatable, but deflated, sheep found its way into my satchel as I approached security in Schipol Airport.
I laugh about it now.
Dreams of Amsterdam
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