‘So am I!’
We head upstairs to the bar; the plan is to watch fireworks from the balcony.
‘What can I get you?’
Whilst I’m deciding, Scrooge orders a beer. The Martini bottle is looking tempting, but I’ve a feeling he wouldn’t approve.
‘Do you have mulled wine?’
They don’t. Damn.
‘A glass of red, please.’
‘Any particular red?’
The barman lists a few grape varieties. It’s very unfair; choosing the colour was bad enough.
‘House is fine.’
Scrooge raises his eyebrows. ‘I’d have guessed that you’d have a preference.’
Little does he know.
‘Nope! I don’t know anything about wine. Would you?’
‘God, no. I only drink mulled wine.’
‘I’ll do the next round,’ I say.
I’ve a feeling he’ll hold me to that, and I don’t care.
Armed with alcohol, we wander out onto the balcony overlooking Covent Garden. I suspect he also thinks I frequent the ballet.