9) Talk to a man in a kilt.

I wanted to save 9) for a really special moment. Like, I would be out on a desolate Highland hill and from the mists a lone kilted-figure would materialize, sweeping me off my feet and into his arms. Or something like that. My actual encounter with a kilted-man was slightly different, but also in a totally fantastic setting. I, Victoria Easter, actually attended a cocktail party. With my clearance ensemble, I proudly strode into a rather swanky flat bearing a bouquet of roses and bottle of elderflower water in my bag (hey, the invitation said to bring what we’d like to drink!).

Despite being a wee bit nervous, I loosened up with my cranberry and limeade – soon mixing and mingling with St. Andrews’ finest. One of these fine people was a man in a kilt. So, there! All in all, I did have the pleasure of speaking to several old friends and meeting a few new ones. Cocktail parties aren’t as frightening as I thought! If you remember, back in the recesses of this blog, my first party was a flop. So, this time, I did everything opposite. Instead of arriving thirty-minuets early, I arrived fifteen-minutes late. Rather than wearing flats, I wore heels. As opposed to wearing a simple black dress, I wore a snazzy little black dress. Good decisions, all.

My one deep observation from the evening would be that the only thing separating drunks on the street and guests at a cocktail party would be the quality of the booze. Cheers!