Time for an entry. They seem only to occur at certain precise times, much like the alignment of certain planets. Once again a cat is on my lap, making it hard to type, but Max (Maximus, Mad Max, Max Factor, Maxi Taxi, try it at home, the whole family etc.) is a much smaller cat than Gus so the Feline Impediment Effect (FIE! FIE on thee, I say!) is much less pronounced.
Firstly, a total rebuttal of what is frankly nonsense from Mr Caygill. Now let me be the first to say that after his years in the wilderness with the no-end candle burning and the cop-outs and the GBOE inquiries that HURT ME, ahayem ahaaay (there is no good way of writing that down. Hank Azaria is the man) he has improved significantly. While others have continued to judge him on his previous reputation, I have been the first to say: " And where were YOU at Saturday / Sunday morning at around 6am? Were you with me and my mate James down JP arguing drunkenly over philosophy and politics and life the universe and everything, or meeting strange girls in Victoria Square and walking over beams and climbing modern art and perilously swinging on willows in idiotic attempt to ape (ha) Tarzan?" And the answer of these naysayers has inevitably been: "No. No, I'm sorry, but I prefer sleep to such hedonism, and scientific tests show that I have the mental attitude of a 52 year old married person." And so I say to these people let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
However his non-appearance on Tuesday was a little disappointing. But what has made it worse has been the excuses he has offered, which are SAD. Firstly, the activities we had invited him to participate in were free, save any costs that must be met for his transportation to our venue. Thankfully the soccer is not pay per view. And there was lots of beer I had I was willing to give for nothing. For am I not Ben the philanthropist? Verily.
Secondly, what we wanted was for him to come over and drink. I think that therefore his car claim goes right out the window. Indeed, after the last ride that was going anywhere near the respective domiciles of Tim and myself (Mark, who left with Dan, Dan who had to get up and work for the IRD tomorrow, but could we keep him away from the tequila, hell no, and he doesn't even like it) Tim and I declined a lift as the mere possibility of going to the pub still existed. But how would we get home? It was a tough couple of hours there when we realised James and his car would not be coming through the fog, the hail, and the serial killer cannnibal monkeys of Hagley Park to save us, and at one stage there the big guy was biting back the tears. But somehow we toughed it out mentally and then took the big step of getting ourselves home, albeit in a taxi, but as Tim points out this for TBALC is a most irregular occurrence, brought about by the fact I was sick. (Sick and still out and watching the soccer and drinking, mind.)
So I join the naysayers on this one. A Black Mark for Mr Caygill goes down at the Board HQ to undo some of his recent good work.
More to report I have for once (this reminds me I need to see Ep. 2 again) but apparently we must away to play Risk. Righto.