James, where art thou?

On Saturday-night K and I went out. We don’t go out very often, but K’s company threw a party. A James Bond-style party.  Ow goodie. To be honest, both of us couldn’t be bothered to go, but hey, don’t be such coach potatoes you two, let’s go. A so K grabbed his tuxedo and I put on my party-dress.
You see, party dress. Now this is the first time I tried the self-timer of my new camera, so be nice. Yes, I need a bit more practice with that. That grey stuff on the bottom of the pic is from the stepladder.
Going out meant also missing the third episode of Downton Abbey. Bummer. But hey, James Bond. Who wants to miss?
We arrived at about fifteen to nine and left one and a half hour later. As K works on projects for his company (he is never at the office) he didn’t know any of the co-workers that evening. So we ate a bit and drank a glass of champagne and were bored. Now, a couple of those glasses had zirconia’s in it but one of the zirconia’s was a real diamant. I had no luck that evening. No zirconia, no diamant. But the champagne tasted nice. Of course I was looking for Daniel Craig, who makes my knees all wobbly, but he didn’t turn up. I was hugely disappointed, I felt betrayed. I missed Downton Abbey for his presence! Daniel probably had business elsewhere, saving the world from some ugly criminals. Ah well, bless him.