Forgetful

We were promised dismal weather for the bank holiday weekend, but somehow didn't get it. Instead there was warmth, and punting, and a barbecue, all of which were very pleasant.

There was also an episode of extreme intoxication on Friday night leading to the wholesale loss of Saturday; this was a mite disturbing. In particular, I apparently had a Marching Boys-related telephone conversation with Kym sometime in the late afternoon, of which I haven't the faintest recollection.

If my life were a movie, I would gradually discover evidence of other things happening in those amnesiac hours -- inexplicable bloodstained clothing, large cash withdrawals, sinister messages from people I don't remember ever having met -- and I'd wind up on the run from the police/murderous drug barons/a foreign power, in a desperate bid to clear my name/exact revenge/prevent world war three.

Pending any such developments, the party is -- yet again -- over, and that long-foretold glum drizzle has arrived with something approaching conviction. I shall now head off into it on an epic quest for lunch, to return wetter but -- with a bit of luck -- less hungry.

TTFN, chaps.
Posted by matt at June 1, 2004 12:28 PM