Wailing (Quietly)

Today the weather has gone oddly cold again and there is a heavy frost. It was so cold that MD had trouble doing his usual trick of swinging on the towels on the washing line because they were frozen solid and even he couldn’t get a good grip on them.

I run in today and as I leave the house I can hear barking nearby, not MD surely. L and the ‘boys’ had gone out on their walk a few minutes before me. I find out later that it probably was him. Apparently he had a go at catching a juggernaut that was minding its own business on the main road, that was before he started on the ducks on the pond. He’s such a spirited little thing.

I run listening and wailing (quietly) along to the Doves, who L has talked me into taking her to see next week. They’re really good, I’ve not really listened to them much before. They’re so very ‘Elbow’ but with a bit more of a darker edge. L reckons they’ve been top of her ‘must see’ list for about two years. This is why we’re going over to Coventry to see them. Of course once we’d got tickets for Coventry they announced a Nottingham date. However the Coventry gig is a pre-tour tour, if you know what I mean, so it should be extra good.

L thinks I should run in listening to my audio book instead because she can't wait for my opinion on Patrick Gale’s ‘Notes From an Exhibition’, over a bottle of wine naturally. I don’t think I could run to a book. I’m sure it would slow me down.

In the evening I’m out with my friend from school, so I get to hear more about his disastrous dating exploits. He’s recently taken up speed dating.

We’re in the Royal Standard tonight where the head brewer is behind the bar and will be introducing some new brews during the evening. A nice idea but he doesn’t seem very good with the till and it creates some monstrous queues.

Beer wise, the Dashingly Dark is... well dashing, dark and very moorish, that is until it runs out. It isn’t replenished because it’s down to be replaced by a new brew, just not yet. In fact all the beers seem to be ‘in transition’ and there isn’t actually much on. We also have a disaster ordering food. It’s fifteen minutes before last food orders when we join the queue but by the time we get to the bar they’ve stopped serving meals. I throw my usual strop and they relent only to tell us what we want is sold out anyway. So we drain our beers and head elsewhere, just as Taylor’s Ram Tam is being put on the bar, damn. Then as we walk out the door I spot one of the new beers, Penny’s Porter. She sounds right up my street.

Our destination, the Standing Order, isn’t too bad. My pie is good if a bit too stodgy and the Ringwood Forty-niner is very good. My friend has egg, ham and chips for £2.99 which sums him up really. Oh yes, that reminds me, the speed dating.

Now girls, one of the questions you need to ask in your three minutes is what your potential date would select off the Wetherspoon's menu, because it could tell you a lot about them. Speed dating actually sounds like a fun way of spending an evening (although I doubt I'd be allowed to find out how much) and my friend seems to get quite a few phone numbers out of it (and that's why) but unfortunately that’s where the speed bit stops because he’s terrible at taking it on from there. I spent most of the evening banging my head against the pub table. I really couldn't put you through the details.