HOSTESS BARS

Oh, a few other things. When we were driving to Brighton, I had another one of those weird deja-vu experiences. The road we were on was exactly like one I dreamed about a few years back. It was bizarre.

Another thing. When Sarah was over at my house, and her husband, Martin, was talking to Peter about band stuff, we overheard them discussing a gig they have been offered at a Hostess Bar.

Evidently, a Hostess Bar is this place where they have women on staff, and men come in and buy them drinks. They order Champagne, which comes at £100/glass or something similarly outrageous. And this is the "arrangement" at these bars.

Neither of the men decided to tell us about this gig--We just sat there making our own plans.

We are going, of course. We have decided that we're either going to tart it up ferociously, or we're going to go really really frumpy and present ourselves as "the alternative."

I still can't decide.

I bought Matthew the most appalling souvenir in Brighton.