I had arranged to meet T for a drink this evening. Usual pub, usual entertaining conversation.
Halfway through the evening, T’s friend D turned up, insistent that they had arranged to go for a drink tonight (a fact T disputes).
No problem you’d think, everyone ended up in the right pub. Happy days.
Except that the boys (being boys and boys with beer at that), spend the best part of the next four hours bickering about whether a firm date and time had been agreed.
Central to the argument is whether or not Wednesday can legitimately be considered to be included in the expression of “early next week”.
The status of Wednesday vis-à-vis the week at large, was discussed in length and in the sort of dogmatic manner only drunken men can bring to such trivial questions.
Entertaining as it was to spectate upon, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more sober.
2 comments:
oh, MEN! You'll not be absolutely stunned to hear that your Wednesday entertainment is replicated in this very house on a regular basis. Next time, let's just go out for a drink together, OK? x
Only four hours down the pub Liz, you must be buzy!
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