In all my youthful years of imbibing copious amounts of Guinness (and I mean copious - I out-drank my father and his brother on my father’s 50th birthday when I was 21, and those men can drink), I never recall vomiting on myself or anyone else. Even better, no-one ever spewed over me either. But last night, Sommer, our au pair, was very unfortunate to have a guy puke his guts over her on the train on the way home. To add insult to psychological injury the young train conductors apparently found the incident funny! As if this wasn’t bad enough – and really, it IS bad – she was wearing my white, dry-clean only coat.
Bad enough to have a stylish, but not quite warm or waterproof enough, coat foisted on you as you go out the door – the implication being ‘You can’t go out on a Friday evening in that practical, quilted coat!’ - but then to return home with it covered in the contents of a stranger’s stomach.....well, it would sort of take the joy out of the evening wouldn’t it? Anyway, I wouldn’t have lent her something that I was very attached to and am sure that a cold wash in the machine will sort the wool from the bile, but really who’d have thought that nightlife in Oslo could be so perilous? If you’re reading this, Sommer’s parents, believe me that we are really looking after her, really we are. And I no longer drink Guinness, copious amounts or otherwise. Honest.