Then an odd thing happened, I saw a lady who I'd walked to her bus about a fortnight previously, and when eventually we caught each others' eye I nodded in greeting wherupon she promptly looked away and went somewhere else. A bit later in the evening I happened to be in the beer garden having a smoke at the same time as her and she scooted off somewhere else again. I honestly can't remember the last time I scared someone so badly with a nod. So, with my eyeballs burning, my mind puzzled by this turn of events and my memory working hard to figure out what the hell I could have done to scare the bejeezus out of her I figured it might be time to call it a night. A "Sod this" vote was proposed and passed unanimously and a taxi home was grabbed.
The next morning brought new clarity when, still puzzled by the previous night I remembered that part of me likes scaring, intimidating and generally freaking people out, now normally attractive red headed ladies aren't top of my list to do that to and it certainly wasn't intentionally but I think its all a matter of how you frame these events in your mind.
Early in the day cartographer and I headed into town to get a BBQ, a task that should have taken fifteen minutes but somehow took well over two hours and involved afternoon tea in a cafe, throw rugs for the sofa and a digital camera. I don't have much to say on the topic of the BBQ beyond wondering what the HELL was passing through the minds of the guys who wrote the instructions when they decided that the logical first steps of building this thing should involve putting on the wheels and balancing everything on top.
After that we finished the job of unpacking everything we'd kept stored in the front room and when gerrowadat called over we congratulated ourselves with some burgers cooked on the newly flaming BBQ which mercifully failed to collapse on itself, explode or otherwise harm us all in a fiery and painful manner. Later on gothwalk persuaded me to go back to fibbers where I have to say I had an absolutely fantastic night. Granted the place was like a furnace and every time a moshworthy song came on the air was filled with a gentle rain of sweat but for all that, and all the dehydration and the long long walk out of town to try and get a cab it was a real good time which was only improved when I woke up on sunday without either a hangover or the traditional post mosh, aching muscles.
Sunday ... I watched 13 episodes of "Lost". Other things happened too but they're of even less interest to y'all than the drivel I just foisted on the internet.