I got an e-mail from an Irish friend yesterday, someone I used to work with years ago when she was doing her travels around the world. Back then, I was a spirit-drinking early-thirty-something who participated in a major annual pub crawl with a gang of hard-drinking IT guys who really liked to wear ladies underwear occassionally. It was on one of those pub crawls - the theme was Village People and I was dressed up as a biker chick - that I picked up a toy boy fan. I was quite flattered to be stalked by the 24-year-old, who didn't pluck up the courage to come and talk to me until six whole months after that big night.
Boy, have things changed since then. Serious-minded, teetolling and hitched in all but name only.
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