Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.
Arrived at the appointed place, at the appointed time looking and smelling my very bestest. Sadly this was the high point of the evening as things pretty much went downhill from there, just not for the reasons that I thought they would.
Sarah had, in response to my constant begging and pestering, agreed to come along and hold my hand which was a good thing since said hands were shaking so badly, I could barely hold my menu. In a misguided attempt to quell my numerous anxieties I gratefully accepted a large glass of Pinot Grigio from the very nice man who it turned out was my date.
Instead of delicately sipping my drink in a lay-deee-like manner, I knocked it (and the following four) back like an Irish navvy, if Jolly-Nice-Craig found this unnerving, he was too polite to show it.
The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur (I do recall, at one point, sitting down, missing my chair and ending up on the pavement) but I think I can say with some confidence that I doubt very much if Jolly-Nice-Craig will be inviting me on any more dates.
To top things off, I went to collect my car this morning and discovered that I had placed the car in a pay and display bay so it had acquired a bright yellow ticket.
Have spent most of the day sprawled on the sofa feeling sorry for myself. The Teenager and I watched Paranormal Activity (most excellent film) while I ate Twiglets and tried to ignore the constant cringe-making flashbacks.
Think that perhaps now would be a good time to develop the appendicitis as I am definitely not looking forward to facing poor Sarah on Monday.