Friday Friday, Crucnchie Day, Poet's Day. although I haven't done a nine to five job for many a year there is still something about a Friday.
In truth this Friday was much like a Tuesday or a Wednesday or a Monday or a Thursday, but I still like the feeling of the week being neatly wound up.
Actually, for such a creature of habit this Friday is fairly noteworthy as I foresake the Ruby. It's A bloke's night out for the local driving instructor's so I head instead to the Three Horseshoes. Only six of us there and my heart sinks as one of them, an ex serviceman sets out on the "finest fighting troops in the world" tack, and is generally supported by the others, I bite my tongue as I am a newbie and they are a decent bunch of chaps. The food is good, the beer and wine is good and all in all it's an pleasant evening.
On leaving it turns out that the sheeting rain has turned to snow. I beg a lift most of the way home, but the last half mile was ghastly with the chin nuzzled deep into the collar.
S had Claire home with her and they took great delight in my appearance. Must have looked like Capt.Oates having changed his mind!
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