Was at a party last week with a rather strange mix of people. It was a wine tasting event – yearly thing, you pay 30 pounds and then drink as much as you like. Begins with a guy telling you all about the different wines. I paced myself – something I did not do last year and resulted in me leaving early and missing on some magic. Lots of different nationalities and very interesting to see the interaction in social etiquette. There was a rather outspoken polish girl who commented on one of the wines being, and I quote “the worst she had ever tasted” …. ouchie. The guy had been selling it pretty hard and after that outburst he asked others what they thought, everyone seemed to look to the ground, felt like being round your friend’s house when their parents argue and you are asked to comment. But that was soon forgotten, she was actually lovely and I don’t think she thought anything of it. Just a shitty wine…. I started to get a bit tipsy, smoked a fag – I’m an ex smoker have been since new years eve so this was an indication of how the night was headed. Anyway, I can feel eyes burning into me, turn around and there is my boyfriend staring with a look of helplessness and sheer panic on his face. he is chatting to, or rather listening to, a guy who resembled Laurence Llewelyn Bowen.As I totter over – wearing heels and a little skirt – I hear that they, or rather he, is talking about shoes….. My boyfriend is a football fan, not a shoe fan, but to be fair he is doing his best to look interested. We are then joined by this very tall, quite severe looking girl who he introduces as his wife. We say our hellos and smile, she says hello…. pause, long pause… In any moments of awkward silence it always seems to be me who feels the need to fill them as quickly as possible so I grasp at anything that comes to mind and that was so obviously her lips. They are big, not Angelina Jolie big more like Lesley Ash big so I say, intending to be complimentary, “wow your lips are amazing” (this was a lie I thought they were ridiculous) “they’re so plump, have you had them done?” As I heard it out loud I realised my error and immediately braced myself for a physical blow. She was russian with a large tattoo of a gun down her leg. She tells me that is very rude, looks at me with eyes of death and I freeze. My boyfriend then jumps to the rescue by asking her about her tattoo – strange how we both felt the need to talk to her and comment on the two things which neither of us like, Laurence seemed far more relaxed and a much safer bet, perhaps we like dancing with danger, who knows. Anyway with the lady distracted I made my retreat, ran outside and proceeded to tell anyone that would listen my story. On about the 5th time of telling this I felt an evil presence and was right to stop, she was there, behind me. Again silence… She is standing with a rather fancy cigarette holder, so I think this is my chance to make amends. I tell her how cool it is and such a great look – I know, I don’t know why I do it either – I ask her where she got it, and what she likes about it. She answers rather cooly that it prevents her fingers from stinking, so I say wow, yeah thats a great idea, I hate the way my fingers smell. She promptly tells me to shower more and walks away. I think I handled it all rather well.