Friday was a long old work day. Dull. I couldn’t leave till bloody 9pm, and it was Charlie’s birthday in the Four Thieves that night.
Fortunately I made it there for 10.30 anyway and had exactly 5 pints. Nice. Fred and I had a very competitive game of table tennis at 2am, during which he backhand swung his table tennis bat at full force into his pint glass that was sitting on the table. It was utterly decimated. There was literally nothing left, except the scattered remnants of glittering dust. We left soon afterwards.
Saturday Fred and I met John at the board game bar Draughts in Dalston. We had a lot of beers and negotiated them allowing us to stay for 8 hours of gaming. It was bloody great. Halfway through a game of Terror in Meeple City Freddie’s hangover kicked in hard, and he had to walk to a local park to vomit. He got back on the beer again soon after.
We were better behaved than usual, but we did get a little rowdy towards the end.
John was in the queue for the toilet but he had to get something from the table. He walked past me to pick it up, and uttered as he passed: “I’m next in line for the toilet”. So I deliberately got into the cubicle and waited for him to return so he could witness me closing the door in his face and using the toilet instead.
He strided up at full speed, as I peeked through the doorway, moving like a freight train at maximum momentum. I slammed the door and flicked the lock just in time, literally a split second to spare. But that didn’t stop him. He ripped the door open, the lock flying in splinters. I stood there shocked, but I still used the toilet, so I guess I won.