A story about the Gillian I knew, the Gillian we all know. I met her at a party. I was somewhat, shall we say, buzzed, and thus weighing my future in ... maze of contemplation. I looked up and there she was – staring me down. ‘You’re all fucked up’ she said, ‘wasting your life away with that shit – you got no drive, no purpose.’ ‘Really, you don’t like to get a buzz?’ ‘Don’t need it’ she snapped, ‘I get high by myself, whenever I want to.’ ‘Really…?’ ‘Sure, like now, I’m flying, and all without. As per our prior arrangement you head straight to the lift, not once looking in any other direction, totally focussed, as I watch the lift door close from my vantage point I know I have 30 minutes to wait until I can enter the room, by now you should be sipping on a glass of champers, giddy with the fragrance of rose petals s**ttered upon the bed and trying to relax and prepare for what lies ahead, the waiter sees my empty glass and brings me another drink which I slowly sip until finally it's. More

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