So I go out on Friday and am very good, no fags, a few voddies, then home with James to eat spag bog. Adam was in so James got to meet him - pronounced him far less scary than Ron, which is a compliment in anyone’s terms... Watched some Will and Grace and then had a fairly early night. Got up, went shopping to Canary Wharf, chilled out a bit, sent James home, got bored, went wandering with Adam, stopped for dinner in Pizza Express, wandered around Selfridges, went down the seedy bits of Soho, wandered past Retro (full of people but no-one I knew). Texted Danny, agreed to meet him at 10:30ish to go to Heaven - wandered over to the South Bank at dusk and up to Oxo Tower, looked at pretty pretty things...met Danny, went to Heaven (packed, pool party. Seminaked people running around in speedos. Mmm.) Drank a little too much, trundled home with TJ and Adam, drank a little more, stayed up chatting and then went to bed at about 11am Sunday. Oops. Woke up at about 4pm, felt crap, tried to wake Adam, gave up, went back to bed. Dozed on and off for hours until getting up this morning. So much for the weekend. Bah.