On leaving the pub on Friday night there was the usual kerfuffle about where/whether to eat. Lynne wanted a curry; Matthew didn't; Mark wanted something cheap; Ali wanted another drink. I couldn't resist the aroma of the frying onions from the burger man on the street corner and I bought myself a burger. Ali was almost tempted by the smell too, but she ended up skipping off into the distance instead. I wandered into Holborn Station and jumped onto the first train I saw. After a little snooze I woke up at Turnpike Lane. So I got off and jumped on a bus to Swiss Cottage. As I was not far away, I decided to make a pilgrimage to the home of Cricket. I struck up a converation with a local homeless man about the state of English cricket. He was remarkably well-informed and had all the answers. I sauntered off towards Marylebone Station where, after calmly foiling some would-be muggers, I took a train to South Ruislip. On the walk home I bumped into some superheroes who invited me to a party. Despite my lack of fancy dress, I joined them for a couple of drinks and a few stunts on the garden shed roof. I eventually made it home as the sun was rising.
I assume that's what happened anyway, I seem to have lost a large chunk of memory.
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