Surprisingly Busy Week

It's the weekend already? Wow. So, I went to the quiz in the Mucky Pup on Wednesday with Hanson, his wife Ally (and their dog Rolex) and Jamie who'd been with us the previous week. Having only been in there once before I was surprised to be recognised by the barstaff (who remembered my love of Quavers) and the quiz hosts.

The quiz went okay - we came fifth, but finished strongly having been a long way back at half-time - but not as well as we'd hoped. The marathon round this week was the Top 30 Pub Names in England (not including chain pubs) and we did pretty badly in that, which hampered us overall. Next week, I'm assured, the photo round will return, so less chance of other people displaying their Google-Fu skills.

Thursday. Now what the hell happened on Thursday....oh yes, football. I half watched Newcastle draw nil-nil in the UEFA Cup Qualifying Round on Channel 5. The most one-sided goalless game I think you'd ever see. Still, Newcastle are now in the UEFA Cup "proper" and will be playing some side from the Baltic states in a couple of weeks.

Friday. After a day of demolishing walls at work, at least one of which was demolished accidentally - followed by a hasty rebuild of one of the servers and the network - I decided going to the pub would be a very good idea. So I met my flatmate Jane in our local and had a few pints. Then, just as we were leaving, Matt & Giles appeared, so I went back in for another pint.

I went back in - even though I was already on my way home - because Giles dropped the following bombshell on me: Sophia is pregnant! That man is having the most expensive 12months of his life. First he buys a house that needs lots of work doing to it, then he gets married, then his wife gets pregnant within 9 months of starting her new job so doesn't get more than statutory maternity pay. Still, congratulations.

Today, I'm off to Islington again, to meet up with a guy I used to go to school with, who I haven't seen for about 20 years. As we're males, we had a brief email conversation (one mail each) where we swapped numbers, and a text message conversation (two texts each) where we arranged to meet for beers. I have no single clue what he's been up to for the past two decades, and, by the end of this evening, I may still be none the wiser.

It will be interesting to see if I can recognise him when he walks in the bar, as I've failed to ask him if he looks much different (you know, bald, fat, lost a leg in a skiing accident, has tattoos of religious iconography all over his face, that sort of thing). I've looked back over some photos taken from 1987-8 and apart from being slightly fatter and more depressed looking, I don't think I've changed much, so let's see if he recognises me.