The elusive Mr Corrigan

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“What do you mean he’s not here?!!!” I shrieked.  “Where on earth is he?!!”

PJ the bartender looked slightly taken aback.  “Um, he’s in Ireland drinking Pina Coladas.”

“What! Doesn’t he care about his London restaurants anymore?!!” I demanded.

Anna sat on the bar stool beside me – just smiling, a bit too smugly I thought.  When she’d suggested a late night viewing of Rubens and His Legacy at the Royal Academy with an orchestra and cocktails, I had immediately agreed.  It was only on arriving at the exhibition and being handed a single pink rose and a matching chocolate that it hit me:  Valentine’s Day.

Oh well, in for a penny, in for an evening of pink and red and all the accompanying schmaltz.

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