Last night we had a bottle of wine with our dinner. And as is our way, when having a bottle of wine, we’ll have some cheese with it. Unfortunately the only cheese we had in the house was left over from Xmas, and was over a month past it’s sell by date. For a few weeks I’ve been wondering what the smell in the fridge was, and now I know. The brie smelt and tasted like stilton. And I didn’t dare try the stilton: that walked to the bin on its own. The cheddar wasn’t too bad though – the parrot liked the cheese biscuits, and she even had a bit of cheddar too.
Hardly surprisingly my guts left a lot to be desired this morning.
Despite my innards, listening to the radio on the way to work I realised that today isn’t all doom and gloom. I heard on the radio that the government have abandoned their scheme to get rich from selling off our woodlands. That’s probably for the best.
And then there was an interesting article about the fact that the law is going to be changed to allow same sex marriages to take place in churches. And my piss boiled. Personally I feel that if two men or women want to get married, then as far as I am concerned that is entirely up to them. It is their business and no one else’s. What annoyed me were the crackpot arguments used by the pro- and anti- campaigners. There was some tired old duckie on the radio who tried to take the line that people (like me) have only entered into a “mixed” marriage to spite the gay community. And then there was a religious nut who tried to make out that the sole purpose of getting married was for breeding purposes. Perhaps fertility testing should be a compulsory pre-nuptial prerequisite?
And then after work the tribes gathered. Seventeen of us descended onto the local Wetherspoons for their curry night. Not only was one of our number over from Guernsey , but another was celebrating his fortieth birthday. It was great to meet up en masse, though I suspect the normal people who had been unlucky enough to be in the pub at the same time as us didn’t think so.
We should do it again – the Wetherspoons Thursday deal isn’t bad – a decent curry, dessert, two pints of ale and change from ten quid can’t be bad. Even if Glenn did spend an inordinate amount of time chatting up the drunken Ghurkha…
The thing that annoyed me, is that weirdo's generally home in on you, so people generally feel safe from the advances of nut cases when you're around. So what went wrong this evening?
ReplyDeleteNext time we're out, you can sit at the end of the table, and I'll tuck myself away by the book shelf. Or I'll just invite my mum along, and none of us need worry.