I was furious at the time, but I suppose it’s quite ironic. As soon as I had posted yesterday’s entry, the moment I had put my ipad down and went to sip my drink – and I am loving the ability to blog on the move, by the way – I knocked it over. The precious thing I was so proud of, and which I had been determined not to spill, gushed all over the table. Luckily, Paul quickly grabbed the conical glass to prevent it from smashing, but I felt so angry with myself for wasting it, as if I was my own parent reprimanding a child. Oh well, it was easily, if expensively, replaced by the friendly american barman; and there’s no point crying over spilt Martini.