speaking of time flying when you’re having fun…

We had good friends round for dinner last night (pork tenderloin with grilled mushrooms and noodles and a delicious asian sauce, followed by blueberry & limoncello tiramisu which I kind of made up)

We talked and talked and talked and drank lots of German and Bulgarian wine. I know, a little random, but good.

At some point the husband started ushering his wife towards the door and the conversation went like this:

me: what time is it?

him: one

me: *chuckle*

*general conversation and good byes*

him: so we’ve probably missed the last metro

me: what time is it?!

him: one.

me: what?! I thought you were making a joke!

I seriously thought it was about eleven thirty or so. Clearly the sign of a good night when the hours just fly by!

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