Last weekend I met up with a few of my old drinking buddies whom I haven’t seen in about eight years. (The recent demise of Ruth made me resolve to start catching up with my old friends before they’re gone.) I was a bit apprehensive at first, as the week before an old colleague of mine from 10 years ago joined our project and he looks really old now, which makes me wonder just how badly I’ve aged… But thankfully Mick, Chris, and Kev and Dennis (always said as a phrase – like “Bert and Ernie” – not ‘life partners’ but seemingly always together) looked exactly the same as they all did when I last saw them, and were kind enough to say the same of me (and I choose to believe them…).
On the whole it was a great evening. We just picked up where we’d left off without any awkward silences or memory lapses. I think it’s a true friendship that isn’t diminished by a temporary (8 years!) lack of contact. (Either that or you were never as close as you thought in the first place – take your pick.) Typically, the evening wasn’t without incident. We went to the Maharani at Bourse for a curry, but the food took so long to arrive and was strangely undercooked when it did turn up that we got up and walked out. First time I’ve done that in a curry house. Well, it used to be OK eight years ago…
Still, at least the night ended on a high point. Mick had apparently forgotten just how strong Duvel was, as when he stood up (after several of them) he just kept going straight back until he landed flat on top of the people sat behind us. My how we laughed – unlike the locals who were sneering something derogatory about les rosbifs under their garlicky-breath. Maybe it’s a Brit thing, but there’s nothing funnier than someone falling on their arse. (Except maybe catching a flying object to the family jewels – but that kind of depends on the object…) Anyway, it was a classic – up there with “The Farhad incident at Cafe Caspian” in the Manuel Family canon of comical events. Made me laugh all the way home – and almost forget that I was still hungry because some plonker sent back my curry before I’d even stuck my fork in it…
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