The Blog of Lone

This weekend I returned to the Motherland to see my many and varied and lovely friends.  As usual the journey around the demonic guts of the M25 was hellish, being in one traffic jam isn’t great, being in three is down right annoying.  At one point I faced the disturbing possibility of being stuck in a traffic jam, in a tunnel, under a river, with no Sly Stalone to come to my rescue.

When I eventually got to Harps,  the lads and I had a lovely spot of lunch, where we used our combined IQ (of roughly 84) to brainstorm ways of winning the Redbull Pier jumping contest thingy.  This basically involves throwing yourself off the pier wearing a costume, and trying to get the furthest distance.  Possible ideas we came up with included harnessing a neutron star, running around it really fast until you reached the slingshot trajectory; wearing an iron suit while your mates sat in a boat with the world’s largest magnet; and incredibly strong springs on your shoes connected to a handheld firing trigger.  The first two are definite winners, but with the last one we decided it was 50/50 whether the the springs would simply punch through the pier or send your thigh bones hurtling out through your nose.  Would be fairly spectacular either way.  Definite points for style.

After lunch I had a very civilised catch up natter and pot of tea with Nat, an old friend I’d not seen for a few years in a quaint little team room called the Lily Lounge.  It’s surprising just how quickly you can catch up on three missed years, for my part it was pretty much summed up by, ‘not really been up to much’.  Then it was back to Daryl’s nice new house for some extreme Gears of War action before hitting the local pub.  But not before some underhanded Greco wrestling in the bank.  If we’d had the proper olive oil it would have been nude wrestling, but instead we just had to make do.  (Sorry about the wedgie.)

As usual we made the Inn on the Green our base of operations, partly because we like it, mostly because they put up with our crazy behaviour.  Also included in our little alcohol fueled expedition was the Harpenden Arms, where Nat and some of her friends joined us, just in time to watch an epic battle of an arm wrestle between myself and Squire Dix that lasted far too long and left me with no feeling down the right hand side of my body.  At Billy’s we stopped off for Desperados.  Somehow a certain someone managed to partially undress me, without my noticing, and when I did finally realise (and only because an ice cold beer bottle pressed against your skin makes you notice these things) I then had to walk around pretending nothing was wrong, as putting things back to rights would only have drawn attention to the situation.  After that it was back to the Inn just in time for last orders, 3 bottles of red wine takeaway, and for Toby to get broken glass all over the place.

After that the real party began in Toby’s flat, where dubious things were done, silly talk made, I discovered Daryl’s ear does in fact taste like chicken, Toby produced the finest tomato pasta this side of Naples, red wine was quaffed in excessive quantities, and general good times had by all and sundry.

What a pretty bunch

Final proof that Dix's brain is radioactive and a danger to all humanity.