(no subject)

So I'm walking through Liverpool city centre with three lads around my age as the sun sets on a beautiful Saturday. The following conversation happens:

Friend #1: Where should we go to, then? Alma de Cuba? Revolution? The Tea Factory?
Friend #2: Oh, yeah! I could really do with a pot of Assam tea.
Becky: The hell?
Friend #1: I'm getting Earl Grey.
Friend 3#: English Breakfast.

And all I could think was, I hope they have mint tea there.

I was far too excited at my pot of tea. I enjoyed the following dinner party too much. I enjoyed talking about mortgages and science and Japanese lessons. I don't recall exactly when the spectre of middle-class, middle-age values started creeping up on my social group, but it's rather alarming that I'm grateful to be able to cast off the clubbing for wine-tasting and parlour music. It's so much more civilised, sweetie darling.