The Ping-Pong residence, Fanny Pong speaking...

There are no words for quite how much fun I had on Saturday afternoon - certainly enough to make the 4-and-a-half-hour round trip to Smokey and back, and braving the London Underground on a weekend very much worth it. I probably behaved like a complete arse - I spent the whole meet-up in various darkened corners, giggling manically about bums, fannies, a Chinese guy called Ray Ping... generally just being loud, brash and filthy, like a hyperactive 8-year-old. Part of it was that I was a bit giddy at having a Mummy-break, a lot of it was that my fellow meetees were as loud and filthy as myself. Ate two pizzas in one day, annoyed waiters, observed what I believed to be an Al-Fresco performance of Waiting For Godot on a War Memorial, was admonished for my taste in cider, generally laughed my ass off. And those of you who have seen the size of my ass will know that that is no small task.

Yesterday evening was a bit of a nightmare, mind - there were three protest vomits. Three. *Sigh*. I did a lorra lorra laundry last night. Let's see what tonight brings...

Ooh, and my Ma & Stepdad went to see *that* Shakespeare play the other day - really enjoyed it (although she did wonder why there were so many teenaged girls there - hee!) I expect the big David Tennant and Patrick Stewart fans on my FList will have already seen copies of the programme, but if anyone wants me to get her to bring it down when she visits this weekend and scan it, let me know.