One of the drawbacks of playing rugby and enjoying the social side is that most Saturdays nights are a bit of black hole as far as memory is concerned. And after last Saturday I must of crossed the event horizon earlier than normal. It means that Sunday mornings are spent trying to reconstruct the previous evening. I get little clues from my mobile phone. I noticed that I phoned Mrs BW at 9.52pm 9.58pm and 10.02pm, and then phoned my brother, presumably to gloat over the defeat of the oh so modest All Blacks. Have they stopped their clock yet or have they added four more years to it? I also woke up in the marital bed and not the spare room. (Always a clue to the sort of evening I've had)
Anyway its Tuesday and things are almost back to normal. I've retrived my rugby kit from the taxi firm that bravely took me home late on saturday night, and established that I did not have any takeaways on route home and am just about feeling normal again. Can't wait for Saturday really.
4 comments:
Fine man, BW!!...and that was only the appetiser - wait until Saturday!!
P.S. I don't suppose your taxi driver found my spleen, a party 7 and a big, Brummie woman called Edna, did he?
Reg - I'm sure we could rustle up the odd spleen as long as you don't mind a used one. As for Edna I think the magic bus wisked her away with one of the uglier members of our team around midnight. Sorry about that.Ah Saturday. I am under a curfew unfortunately, fledglings birthday etc and a house full of teenage boys. Mrs BW has given me my orders. Who am I to disobey? Mind you if they win ...........
These days it only take 2 pints to get me to that stage
Two pints of what though Kim?
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