Monday, 9 August 2004

This freakin' weekend was a relaxed affair. It is a tradition of Dan's to hold a barbecue while his family are away, and he asked if Norris and I wanted to come. As I was at a loose end I thought I'd come, which saved Dan a train journey.

We rolled into Tunbridge Wells around 1130 I think, and we watched a bit of TV until I could take it no more. I slept in Dan's sisters' room. In the morning I found a note in the kitchen instructing Dan not to let anyone sleep there - but I gather sisters are like that. Of three cereals, the non Nestle one was Coco-pops, but I was foiled by the absence of fresh milk. Had my first meal at a Sainsbury's cafe therefore; a very serviceable breakfast for £1.99; or was it £2.99? Oh dear - I should really write Dan's tab up. A bit of a haphazard shop later, and we were ready for a barbecue. I bought a four-pack of beer from the Badger brewery, which has served me well in the past. I would recommend Badger's Golden Glory, which involves melons. Between that and Sainsbury's Taste the Difference Raspberry Wheat Beer, I'm very much sold on the idea of fruit in my booze; and that without resorting to alcopops.

Who came? Well I'll tell you. Well, I'll tell you some of the peopl who came anyway - with my memory you should feel privileged. Dan and myself, and some of Dan's friends from his pre-university full-time education days. One of them did English in the year above me; had Colin MacCabe for a personal tutor. Eep! He's one of those people who doesn't seem to have a normal mode of address. I mean, even more so than I. She was called Rachel. Also met James of sphericalbowl - a fairly vague sort of individual, with comical facial hair. There were also people who I had met before Cathy(sp?), Des and Charlie. Charlie appeared to have brought his other half too.

The barbecue itself was pretty good, though I only had vegeburgers, the rest seemed to go smoothly. I was fairly relaxed about the whole thing, and it wasn't much of an effort to remain entertained. There was altogether too much wasp asphyxiation for my tastes though. Dan's family has a table-tennis table, which I was right glad of. I gotta get me one of those. Well, that or a car.

There were quite a lot of wasps around, which we attempted to scare off with tea-lights, but it, fairly predictably, did not work. It went some way towards waterproofing the garden furniture I guess though.

We finished off a bottle of vodka while Dan attempted to educate us in the matter of astronomy. There seems, by the way, to be some controversy over whether the stars, or knots, are more beautiful in their variety. I think it's probably the stars. It was dark by that time, and we had lit an exciting faux-primitive cooking pot thing, which we were using for nothing in particular. The sparks left lovely trails in the air like they just didn't care. Bit of Jackass and Dirty Sanchez after we came in the house. Then to bed.

Dan pointed out St. Augustine's church to me on the way past it to J. S. (Johann Sebastian? ) Sainsbury's, but I didn't know what the mass times were. I was up predictably early though, and stumbled into the 8 0' clock. How handy. Dan informs me that the small, black and bespectacled presbyter was a Fr. Jehoshaphat, which is a rocking name.

Wandered back to the house and, as I was up, meandered around the garden, trying to redress the damage. Dan tells me that this sort of thing is more generally saved for for two weeks down the way. Hmm. I put all the unfinished beer, tea, bacon &c. in one bowl because I find it amusing, and it gave the wasps something to do.

After much lazy Sunday morning chattage, and meanderage, it emerged that Cathy's golden shoes has gone missing. We spent a long timelooking for them, and found only one. The whys and the wherefores of the matter we know not. Dan, Des and Cathy decided to go horse-riding, but I sat out. I know someone who knows someone who owns their own jodhpurs. Odd.

When we drove back, we stopped in the same Little Chef as we had come to on the way, and witnessed some heated acitivity in the kitchen, if you will pardon the expression. All very dramatic. And now we're back in Exeter, with a bootload of leftover beer. Cracking.
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