Last night was… interesting. Fun too, I hasten to add.
Being BBQ season*, T’s chums Nathalie and Steve decided to have one of same and invite us and a few other chummingtons ’round for a spot of enboozification. It must be said T is very close to her chums. Grew up together, known ‘em for years, doncherknow.
So it was with some intrepidation that I tagged along, toting a couple of Bags Wot Go Glinglinglingle**. In no time at all*** I was welcomed into the Family Bosom and soon my presence could be detected by the simple expedient of looking for where the toy-arrows-with-suction-cups-on-the-end were coming from.
After a while, Steve and I were banished to the loft to play with the Scalextric. Now, I may not be an expert in such matters but I do know there was only one reason for this banishment: Girly Chat. No idea what about, but we dutifully obliged and clambered up the loft-ladder to become 5-year-olds again for half an hour before the sheer stuffiness of the loft drove us back into the garden. I expect the girly chat was something to do with raindrops on kittens and whiskers on roses, so it’s probably just as well us chaps were asked to excuse ourselves for a bit.
Some post-grub japery of the Ann-Summers variety ensued, along with playing some daft board-game (which T and I won at, although I still have no idea what was going on).
In summary, we all got on like a house on fire**** and had a great time!
For my next feat, I shall be Meeting The Parents. Wish me luck, I’m going in.
Spooling rapidly on to today, T and I decided to grab a couple of local caches after her Ann Summers Sales Training. Quite why this requires training I don’t know. Shurely it’s a simple matter of ‘See this big pink rubber thing? That goes up there and this button makes it change gear’. Ah well, it’s all a mystery to me. 
First cache was Windy Miller Versus The Not So Magic Roundabout which, due to my superior intellect*****, we found without having to go solve any clues or use a GPS. It was fun trying to cross a busy 3 lane road to get to the cache: a Very Nice Man in a BP lorry stopped and flashed his lights at us to cross safely, so Hoorah for BP lorry drivers!
Second cache was Jolly Roger, which involved an extremely pleasant walk around Old Bursledon, possibly the most peaceful spot in Southampton, possibly due to the number of quaint little cemetaries dotted hither and thither. A glorious day for it, mark you. Wandering along sunlight-dappled leafy lanes in search of tupperware, which T found with no problem after I’d walked past the hiding place twice, is a splendid way to pass time on a Saturday arvo. The birds woz a-twittering in the trees, the sun was a-shining in his blue temple, the company was perfect and all was saying ‘bethankit’.
Don’t you just love it when things go right?
*That time of year when men are men and are allowed to burn the food. True fact.
**Naturally.
***Which equates, according to the Royal Swedish Guide to Social Grace, to ‘Length-of-time-taken-to-neck-a-couple-of-bottles-of-Old-Speckled-Hen-and-scoff-Two-Burnt-Burgers’, a variable that depends, for it’s length, upon the number of strangers listening to your every word and making mental notes upon How Funny/Polite/Well-Dressed One Is. The larger this last value, the quicker the beer and burgers will be necked. There’s a formula in there somewhere, but one has a bit of a blind-spot for such things.
****Flames, people screaming etc. Yes, alright, that is an old one but I don’t care.
*****Well, temporary non-workification of GPS combined with local knowledge really.
‹Munches stoically on well-earnt pizza and helps self to a bit of swig›
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