Post-Section the Second, the Irascible

Anyway.

Then, as if by magic, it was Saturday. Hey Hey, indeed. As if to relieve the monotony of the drinking of beer, Saturday night promised beer drinking. But first a few of us had to gather around at home to watch the All Blacks nearly embarrass themselves against France B. Although the first half was looking pretty good, and all were duly rejoicing in the way we seemed to be running in tries at will (Will Blanc, the French fullback), after 30 minutes or so, Nic arrived, and promptly fixed the baleful glare of his evil eye and the monstrous curse of his new haircut on Joe Rokocoko and the rest of the team. Thereafter we sucked the kumara. Not good Geoff, not good. But at least we won. In order to celebrate / commiserate this performance, we cast about us for ideas, and hit upon the novel concept of drinking some beer (after first rejecting, after careful consideration, the ideas of snorting some beer, or absorbing it via osmosis.) Duly it was off to Corey’s birthday party. Although the beer drinking of the previous two nights had left me somewhat impoverished, I was rescued when Nic and Dan decided to buy beer and not drink it, perhaps by this stage in the weekend bored of the whole tedious consumption phase of the process. Utilising the skills I had acquired in Wellington that had led to me being known as the Beer Fairy (leave it, Dan! LEAVE IT!!!), I was able to sink a few freebies (my shout next time, guys) while having conversations with random interesting people and being slightly freaked out along with Sara by the strange old-person décor at Corey’s place, in which dried flowers and doilies featured prominently, along with photos of crotchety-faced women in bonnets who only ever spoke Gaelic (apparently). And so the Third Night of Beer passed, and the Elves went away into the West, (possibly in search of a decent brewery).


Sunday dawned, bright and sunny and clear and malty, with a robust finish, and with a hint of balsa, and chocolate notes in the afterburn. It was my brother Dan’s 23rd birthday. His sneaky girlfriend sneaky Lisa had hit upon the cunning idea of a surprise party for him. Duly I and all his other relatives, and many of his friends, snuck softly softly catchee monkey into his flat, taking care to leave any recognisable vehicles no closer than Nebraska to his front gate. Dan was finishing work at 5:30 and under the impression he was then going home and then out to dinner with Lisa. Mum and Dad initially stayed home to allay suspicion if he were to show up there first. So at around 5:30, about 30 of us snuck into his tiny lounge and turned off the lights and stood there in complete darkness. Jokes and giggling ensued. I, Jeff Clark, and others took turns at producing amusing comments in between choruses of ‘Shhhhhh!!!’ 25 minutes later, still no Dan. Late to his own surprise party. Eventually he arrived, and was being shepherded around the house by his flatmates. At this point somebody stepped on a balloon. Barely suppressed giggling. Daniel somehow failed to hear. Was still being led around unsuspecting. Then the phone, in the lounge with us, rings. More barely suppressed giggling. Calum picked up and whispered ‘Hello?’ 30 people in a room in the pitch darkness listening to Cal having a whispered conversation with Mum, who had rung to see if Dan was there yet, everybody with their hands over their mouths to stop themselves laughing. Still Dan didn’t hear. After what seemed like about 4 hours, he came into the lounge, and Josh grabbed him and pulled him in and turned the lights on, and we all went ‘Surprise!’ Ha, it was excellent, he was totally flabbergasted, and just kept saying ‘awesome’ for about 5 minutes. I can only recommend surprise parties after that, it being the first one I had to been to where I had been present at the surprise part. Talking to Dan afterwards was very amusing, he had had NO idea, and his first thoughts had been ‘What is Josh doing here in the dark?’ and then, when he saw everyone, ‘What are these people going to do here while Lisa and me go out to dinner?’ He had been totally taken in. As was proper he then proceeded to get quite drunk. Josh and I thought it was our duty as his siblings to provide a solid support platform to this activity, based on, well, the drinking of beer. Initially, this looked set to be a difficult task, as there was none, or none that we could lay claim to anyway. Luckily Dad showed up and brought beer. Unluckily, it was CD. Josh and I were forced to square our shoulders and wade in stoically, although I did get my hands on some Stella Artois at some point, but constant comments about how bad CD actually is, in particular from a can (sorry, Ham) at least made for a lively conversation topic throughout the evening. A good time was then duly had by all. Those crazy drama folk. There ended 4 nights of beer in a row. I now weigh 3 metric tonnes.

It is now early Wednesday morning, and I can report there has been no beer since Sunday night. Also that the heater is blowing right down my ear hole. It is decidedly disconcerting.