KATY HARRINGTON It’s been so cold, but things are warming up

IT’S a freezing night in London and after trudging through the snow to get to a leaving do, a gang of us shake off our hats and scarves and take over the upstairs of a cosy local pub.

It gets noisy quickly, with lots of stories, chairs being moved to accommodate new arrivals coming in from the cold, dirty laughs and plenty of wine passed around. After a few hours, I’m feeling the kind of merry you feel after four large glasses of wine on an empty stomach.

People start to peel off, worried about getting home in the bad weather, but some want to stay out. In our own little blizzard of hugs and trying to round up the parties who want to party, I find myself layering up next to a huddle of handsome men. They want to know where we are going next. The answer is we have no idea so they entreat us to stay a bit longer, with shots.

A few minutes later I am downing a silly drink with one of them. He has a nice face and seems amused by the nonsense I am spewing. A subterranean latenight spot is decided on and next thing you know, I’m squashed in the back seat of an Uber with them wishing I had put more thought into my boots/jeans/enormous Icelandic jumper ensemble.

To be honest he doesn’t seem bothered and I do like his face. Our last chance saloon is heaving. We try to talk while being bumped into by thirsty people.

I’m finding this all quite stressful and I’m conscious that I’m tipsy but he is calm and patient and holds my bag, drink and then my waist. It gets late and we both have work early so decide to call it a night.

He asks for my number, so I take his phone, type my digits and save myself as ‘Lovely Irish Katy’.