Late night

out somewhere in the City for Mezzes and hip shaking the night away in opulent Middle-Eastern surroundings in honour of Farrah's birthday. An attractive but slightly intoxicated thirty-something cornered me for a good while. Which was nice for the first five minutes, as it's nice to be reminded every now and then that you're female, but when you're not feeling it, it's time to scarper. I notice that even if I like a man, I will revert to a text book of fake answers until I know him better. So if you meet Leila, born in London, ethnically Moroccan, who doesn't own a mobile phone, but may offer an email address, that's probably me.