Saturday, September 15, 2007

We Will Become Silhouettes 

For the purposes of wringing every last drop out of my birthday, Girlfriend, the older boy and myself hopped onto a train and went to our favoured pub to drink woolly beer.
There we were met by Fairly Famous Actor - still reeling from the previous night's beer festival - then Canoeing Instructor and Charlie, and in the fullness of time, Leanne and her new squeeze Harriet who most of us were meeting for the first time.
We had a very pleasant boozy time, then went to the nearby favoured cafe.
Girlfriend managed to drop a massive dollop of meringue onto my manbag – she says the resulting stain looks like bird poo; I'd say that it looks like an elephant has ejaculated on it, but I'm not that coarse - and I called Canoeing Instructor a slag.
Of course I wouldn't have said it if I didn't know she'd take it in the spirit in which it was intended. She's luvverley. All the same – note to self: take it easy when calling girls slags. It's a bit strong. Especially when they're not.
Anyway, she's in training for a marathon and I'm going to do the half marathon that's on at the same time, and when the time is right I'm going to be her training buddy and kick her up the bum and tell her to go faster, etc. like in the films. We will be comedy jogging silhouettes like Syd Little and Eddie Large with our sweatbands and sagging trackie bottoms along Lytham Green, frightening the dog walkers and their owners.

Then we caught the train back to our house and ate celery and crisps with salad cream and played What The Fuck, and it was all very agreeable.
I never knew that Charlie had a Nazi grandparent. You'd never guess to look at her. How come that's never come up before?
Harriet fitted in very well, I thought. She's nice and said interesting stuff and is funny and didn't seem to mind the penetrating interrogation with which I subject all new visitors to the house. I'm told she had a good time, so that's alright. It makes me really happy to see Leanne looking so happy and loved up, which I realise sounds soft but there it is and you can like it or lump it. She'd better take good care of Leanne or I'll write a nasty country song about her.

At the end of the evening Leanne's sister Bob turned up in a minibus to drive everybody home, but stopped by for a coffee first.
I've met her once before but never realised how funny she is – very funny indeed. She had us all ROFL. I like the story of when they went on holiday together and they stayed in some rubbish hotel and Leanne set fire to her legs. Or something.
Heaven knows I think the world of Leanne but it has to be said her sister is much funnier. Next time I throw a soiree I might ask Bob along instead and Leanne can just turn up at the end to take everyone home. I'm sure it wouldn't rile her at all.

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