Over Roasted Chicken followed by a Selection of Jesus

Classic cricket weather yesterday; clouds that were like bruises, a brisk breeze and indifferent light. There was plenty of turn and bounce in the pitch, although not much for the fast bowlers. Geoff Boycott found quite a few cracks to shove his keys into and merrily did so until he dropped his keys down one gaping fissure and promptly toppled in after them. “Bye ‘eck” he offered as he disappeared from view . We all gathered around the lip of the hole but we never heard him hit the bottom. He may well still be falling, diving after his trusty bunch of pitch mithering keys whilst clutching his hat on his head.

In the evening Monica and I met up with Rhys and Jo in the No Sign Wine Bar. There was a band on called Soup of the Day featuring Montgomery von Broccoli on Guitar and Facial Expression, Cindy Celery on Vocals and Suspicious Bazooms and Freddie Crème Freche III on drums, although he had not turned up so they stuck a tape of his work on and played to that. Classy move. They played what could only be described as the definitive soundtrack to Rhys’ life; Credence Clearwater Revival, Blondie, Fleetwood Mac, how did they know? By the end Rhys was so happy he looked like his face was going to fall off from sheer emotional force if he did not die first. He had also won a bottle of beer, which he drank then filled with his own “Special Brew” and threw it to the band for them to enjoy. I say threw to, but the unsympathetic observer may have mistaken the bottle’s trajectory as being “at” the band. But that is just semantics and I think we are all content with the meaning of the word contentment and won’t argue the toss over every single little word. Will we?

After we had parted company, Monica and I made our way home and ordered a take away pizza for the first time in ages and ages. We then had a little more beer and made paper aeroplanes. Monica decided to escalate things though….


It was all fun and games until it caught fire and had to be thrown into next door’s garden, where it hit their stash of petrol and cordite (there’s an apocalypse on the way you know, so I hope you’ve been stashing some as well) and blew the lot to buggery. We closed our windows and went to bed.