Though, to make things funnier, his friend looked like the spitting image of one of my friend’s ex-boyfriends, Ed*!.
We loved strolling around the wooden huts that were laden with fairy lights, sipping mulled wine and perusing everything from festive fudge to lederhosen – though it quickly became clear that my GCSE in German was less than no use when it came to haggling prices or reading menus.
Luckily, my friends are the wing-women of the century and offered to ‘distract’ the friend should I want to go and serve Roger a strong forehand at his hotel, if you catch my drift.
I would have got up, dressed and left the hotel but it was 3am and, as I’d now discovered that my phone had died, I had no way to get back to my Airbnb safely.
I would have thought Ed would have said sorry, turned on his heels and left us to it.
