a reply to: crappiekat
Thank you for that! And yes, indeed it can! Thank you very much for your idea of showing my kid the ISS during Christmas as well! I am fairly certain
that the little one (read: Gigantic behemoth of a ten year old) has already worked out that Santa is a conspiracy, but I think he will be none the
less chuffed to bits with an opportunity to witness a space station cross his eye line!
a reply to: Night Star
I am glad to have been so busy!
As I alluded to in a post, in a thread which was not at all related to the following subject matter, I had occasion to be out and about this weekend,
on both Friday, AND Saturday nights. Saturday was fairly standard, hanging out with the regular crowd and generally drinking and being very silly.
But Friday was strange and special, and in some very positive ways. Also, after events of the evening in question, I am certain that the end times are
upon us, that Gabriel's Trumpet has been blown, that the heralds note has issued and been heard...
Let me explain. Friday night started out in a fairly regular fashion. I left my home at about ten to six, and arrived in town at roughly five past,
having texted a buddy of mine to establish his whereabouts. Having heard that he was in one of our regular watering holes, I made my way there post
haste from the bus stop and having purchased a drink from the bar, sat down next to him and another of his buddies, and we began the usual banter.
Before too long, other folk he knew showed up, and we became absorbed into a larger collective for a time. Eventually, the first sign that the end of
the world is upon us occurred....
I had elected to go outside for a cigarette, and it was warm inside the pub, leading me to leave my trench coat and fleece/battle jacket inside. This
meant that all I had on my top half, was a sleeveless button up shirt, open to roughly mid sternum. Standard stuff, and despite the VERY stiff breeze,
I, of course, was perfectly fine, temperature wise. Having finished my cigarette, I made my way to the door of the pub with the intention of entering
and finding my chums in the heaving mass within. However, a group of young ladies were on the way out of the door at the time, and so being a
gentleman, I stepped aside for them. The first one out the door looked at me, did a double take, and then announced in fine voice:
BLOODY HELL! You are HOT!!
Without any further comment, she turned on her heel, and wandered off with her friends to what I can only imagine must have been an amusing nights
escapades elsewhere. Feeling somewhat confused, afraid for the state of humanity, and indeed rather pleased with myself, I strolled back into the bar
and continued carousing with my chums.
At roughly eight o'clock, my buddy decided that it would be wise for he and I to change venues, because a group of our other, closer friends would be
arriving at a different bar shortly. This group of pals would include my best friend in the world, as well as some other folk who honest to God feel
like family these days. Fantastic people, really smashing folk in every regard. They regard themselves as being members of a small collective of like
minded and fun loving folk called the Loyal Few. I regard them as being very much like cub scouts, in that they like to get drunk and swear a lot, and
indeed, are precisely my kind of people. Well one of these individuals we shall refer to as M. She is dating one of the other members of LF, and
during the evening she introduced me to some friends of hers. They will be referred to from here on as P, and C. C is clearly a fun fan, since she was
falling off the stool drunk before we even met, and became more thoroughly wasted as the night progressed, while managing to retain a hilarious
cynicism and general sense of fun, all at once. P though... P is about shoulder height on me, thirty years of age, has flowing black hair, and is a
very pretty, and incredibly nice lady.
I am used to meeting new people when out and about with LF, and so after introductions were concluded, we all went back to the tables we were
previously at, and more carousing with the lads and ladies of the Loyal Few was partaken of. That carried on until I once again required a smoke. I
stepped into the beer garden of the bar we were in, and lit the cigarette I had rolled while inside the bar. No sooner had I lit it, than I realised I
was being hailed from deeper inside the beer garden. Down a flight of stairs from the door, is a collection of picnic bench style tables, and at these
were the two ladies I mentioned earlier. Having looked around to make sure I was the one being gestured at, I ambled over to sit with them.
Much natter was had, and by this point, I had quaffed many beverages. I have a tendency for verbosity at the best of times, but I was in that lovely
drunken zen state, where all my veneer was worn off, and I took on the delivery and word choice of an oxford don, or perhaps a wizard. I normally dumb
down, and take all the artistry out of my communication when I am out with the lads, because they do not speak my language, but these ladies
appreciated my mode of communication so don/wizard... Take your pick. Either way, we were chatting nineteen to the dozen, and a lovely time was being
had by all.
At some point, having been less of a part of the conversation, on account of her having been so drunk she was unable to form sentences without
extreme concentration, C piped up that a game of pool would be in order. I love a game of pool as much as the next random hairy bugger, so I agreed,
and the three of us made our way back inside, there to play a frame, and of course, consume yet more beverages. Given that we intended to play only
one frame, I suggested that the ladies take me on as a doubles pair, and that I would play as a team to myself. This was deemed suitable, and so that
was how we proceeded. Now, C was quite utterly hammered, as I have explained, and went to the toilets mid frame, leaving me and P alone with the cues.
At this point, she requested some training in the art of playing the game, and so I gave her some helpful hints, pointing at the location on the balls
which would be ideal to strike and so on. Her game improved no end at that point, which was grand to see, and altered the results not one whit. A win
for me, of course. It's my game!
Now, at this point, C came back to witness the final moments of the defeat of team PC, and immediately challenged me to a different game. Imagine the
following. A table not quite the size of a pool table, with a triangle of circular buttons at each end, with the tip of the triangles facing the
centre of the table. In that centre, is a larger button, labeled start. When the button is pressed, the triangle of circular buttons light up, rather
fast, and in a random order. The idea of the game is that you slap the lit buttons as fast as possible, in order that you score more points than your
opponent by the end of the allowed time. C, being hammered, did not do very well, and got roundly beaten. P took up the challenge next, and did rather
well at it too, but was eventually beaten. In fact, I played with the ladies several times a piece, and won every time.
To be continued...