Big Eggs has a birthday.

This weekend Big Eggs reached the grand old age of 32 and he rented a private suite in a club in which to celebrate with all his friends. Various drugs were organised and the vodka came free with a 'sponsorship' deal, meaning that photographers were present to take pictures of various celebrity guests and with the said alcohol in hand. I knew most of the people there, albeit fleetingly, and was surprised to discover that most of Big Eggs's friends are not familiar with each other. Consequently I did the rounds trying to spend 10 minutes with everyone and it reminded me why I hate giving parties and rarely have a good time. The music was techno-crap and the minty queen behind the bar was clearly unhappy about something, but all-in-all a good time was had and we ended up back at Big Eggs's flat where we were joined by two of his pals. I eventually retired at 6am, one of the others had a train to catch a little later and did not want to go home for fear of falling asleep and missing it, so Big Eggs was obliged to stay awake with him until 9am. I doubt that I would have been so helpful but Big Eggs is nocturnal and it was easy.

On waking, I took advantage of a coffee machine that Big Eggs has recently taken possesion of in order to revive myself. Big Eggs was on holiday in the States two years ago where a local lad fell in love with him, and since then, every few weeks he receives presents which are paid for in the States but delivered locally. These have so far ranged from jewellery trinkets to a washing machine. After taking in the latest acquisitions, I studied the new montage on one wall that Big Eggs has created of himself. The theatrical portraits in various performances and sometimes quite ludicrous costumes on the remaining walls have long kept me amused. Actors are indeed strange creatures.

While my friend slept I crept out to have lunch with a girl I'd met the night before. After fiddling with chopsticks over sushi for 10 minutes, I caved in to my hunger and demanded forks for us. I then dragged my female companion to Marks & Spencer (yes... in Warsaw!) to stock up on lemon curd, seville orange marmalade, dijon mustard, rogan josh and tikka masala curry sauces, and sundried tomato pesto etc. These things cannot be found elsewhere in Poland and I crave for them, although my new playmate could not understand my excitement having never heard of such sustenance.

That evening we stayed in and watched Kill Bill. A good majority of DVD covers feature people pointing guns and I always avoid them. It remains to me a mystery why we can be subjected to so much violence and depravity in film, but sex - one of life's most natural and pleasant pastimes - can only be hinted at.

The next day Big Eggs saw me off at the train station. I struggled on board the express to Lodz loaded down with my M&S goodies and he waved goodbye as I settled back to listen to Bruce Springsteen and dream about chicken tikka masala.

Word of the week: Nocny meaning nocturnal.