Cockblock, Part One

So when we got the super late train back to Liverpool Street Saturday night/Sunday morning, it was so late we had to get the night bus back to my house. Unfortunately, this meant taking the longer bus that goes straight through Hoxton to Dalston and it was just pub-closing time. So there we are with suitcases and bags and all these horrible drunk people clambering on to the bus and pushing and shoving and also offering me some bread, though I declined.

Finally we manage to get to my flat, it seems dark, so I figure flatmate D is asleep. Being my house, I unlock the door and move inside so SH can come in after me only to be momentarily stunned by small tea candles placed strategically on every other step of the staircase.

Then I hear a rustle and giggle from the lounge where I see more dim flickering light and start to hear some soft music playing as I move forward to allow SH to come in behind me and shut the door. "Oh shit!" I hissed at her, "D has a girl in there!!".

Now this was bad on two counts. First, after the snoring debacle, I wasn't interested in being in a similar position and had anticipated SH staying downstairs on the comfy fold out sofa. And second, we were cockblocking my flatmate!! So we backtrack as best we can and just put things down in the kitchen where the remains of some complicated home-cooked meal was revealed making everything even worse. Unsure of what to do exactly, D spoke up from the lounge, "So how was Portugal?".

At which point we came into the lounge and chatted for a while before lugging up the suitcase bags to my room since SH was obviously sleeping with me again and getting ourselves ready for bed at 2:30am or so. It was such an awkward situation, and we felt really bad about interrupting anyone's specially planned booty-call. We got up Sunday morning and left the house, noting that the girls shoes and jacket were still downstairs and the door to D's room still firmly shut. So maybe not so terrible after all.