Just returned from a wedding in France. Went the wrong way from Waterloo, heading north on the Bakerloo line. Changed at Embankment, and is now heading the right way.
"I'm going to a wedding too!" Georgina said pleased. "What's your friend's name?"
"George," was the answer. "So's mine!" she cried. It was in the same town. They bought Shuttle champagne on the strength of it. They laughed all the way under the Channel, through Paris and to the country train station.
The taxi driver smelled of sweat and couldn't find the address Georgina that gave him. They arrived late and embarrassed. The French bride pressed them with more champagne.
Anthony couldn't find his friend. "Have you seen George?" he kept asking. Georgina replied, mystified. "He was just here."
Finally she dragged him to George. He turned out to be Georges, and French. Anthony was at the wrong wedding. Another taxi ride. Anthony's George had already gone by the time he arrived.
No one bought champagne on the trip back. Now at Waterloo, Georgina stands us to go. "Goodbye?" she says.
It's a question.