Came back home on Sunday morning after the Year 13 prom (which was good, although I have very little recollection of the after-party). After having a shower, I went downstairs to find my mother in the kitchen. She asked me if I "picked up any girls". The answer was no. (I'm not suave or self-confident enough to simply say "Hey babe, fancy a dance?" If you know what my voice sounds like and what I look like, you'll know immediately just how horrifyingly, ridiculously awkward and utterly unromantic that would be coming from me.)
Later on, when I saw Dad, his first question was not along those lines. His first concern was how drunk I got. He was pleased on that account.
I found this mildly amusing, at any rate...
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