Those words ended up leading to one of those wonderfully uncomfortable meals where you barely know the people at your table, and your friends/acquaintances/whatever are on the other side of the room. I did my usual bit - eat fast, say little, go and hide. I checked out a book fromt he library - I haven't read this much in ages. It's a book of plays by Bernard Shaw - I haven't read nearly enough of him.
Even now, I'm doing it again - the rest of the group is swing-dancing while I'm effectively hiding in the corner, writing. One day, I'll figure out why I do it. I honestly don't know why, but I've done it my entire life - just randomly decided to cut myself off.
Diarius interruptus (speaking of getting cut off).