Leading up to New Years Eve last year, I really was struggling to find the umpth to make a night of it. I was worried that it was going to be a very expensive, normal night with bells and no whistles. Lloyds, St Albans was the venue and I think after quite a bleak night there on Christmas eve I feared NYE could follow suite. How wrong I was…
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And Nick’s 25th birthday were celebrated last weekend, not that he’d ever go as far as admitting is was his actual birthday mind. The Friday in PB was probably the better night as Chrimbo eve in St Albans was a bit bleak. As the instructions dictated, Friday was intended to be a proper old school night and I can safely say I can tick off bullet points 2 through 5. It was really nice to sit in the musky, old, Byng book seats but despite some good efforts by most and plenty of reef, it was obvious we weren’t 17 anymore! Which reminds me, my bones aint as strong as they used to be. And I can thank the shovels at the end of Dr Ahearne’s arms for giving me a very sore digitus medicinalis.
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Firstly, I must apologise for the delay in making these photos available but this was entirely the fault of Sarah Kelly (shown right, stealing meat). She stole from me my camera and I have only recently had it returned to me.
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I think you can tell how old you are getting by the presents you receive. The quality and the quantity seem to diminish as you grow older but going on this year’s list you would think I was 135. This does make me sound quite ungrateful, which I am, but I can’t say it bothered me for too long. What more than made up for it was a nice little drink in St Albans this Saturday with a top bunch of chaps. We visited the St Albans Beer Festival which was not quite the on-a-par-with-Oktoberfest event I had envisaged, but served up a vast array of strange beers and even stranger people all the same. Caleb I think hit the nail squarely on the head when he commented his pint tasted as though it had been filtered through a pair of granny’s knickers.
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What a week! It all started way back when Roy was single in the eyes of the law and I was just single. Dr Hamilton as he is officially known asked me to be best man at his wedding to Genevieve and I was honoured to accept. The stag do was first item on the to-do list and it was a tall order trying to organise a get-together with all the old boys from Uni. We were all pretty evenly spread across the country, no in fact the world and since our graduation nearly two years ago, had failed to successfully organise a single night out. Read the rest of this entry »
