Dolly Mixtures Musebox

This really wasn't the kind of place Charlie would normally find himself on a Sunday afternoon, he would much rather be on the rink - especially in this weather - but Banksy had won some radio competition or other and got himself two tickets to the race and a chance to meet some of the drivers, so of course Charlie had agreed to be dragged along for the day out so that Adam didn't have to go on his own.

The race had been okay, he guessed, but it hardly compared to a hockey game for interest. Maybe it would have been different if he'd met any of the drivers before the race and was actually rooting for someone, but as it was even when the leaders changed he didn't really feel any particular enthusiasm.

Now was the part that was a little more bearable, the hospitality tent. Free food, drink, even champagne being handed out by people who were none too fussy about age limits (he was only 20, it wasn't that bad to sneak a glass or two), plus they were supposed to be mingling with the drivers but Charlie had no idea who was who. Banksy had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, so Charlie was left hovering near the buffet table, sipping champagne.