Z is ready for the weekend

Well, the evening went very well - there were ten of us.  We meet up once a month except during the winter - if everyone is there, we number 17 but that never happens.  I'm the youngest by far but that's fine, I've never taken any notice of age.

I drove home, down the drive and round the corner to the place where I park and the engine stopped.  I restarted, put it into gear and it stopped again and wouldn't start.  So I left it until the morning, when Jonathan kindly popped round from the garage, couldn't get it going and said he'd arrange for it to be towed away.  I chose to be grateful that it had brought me all the way home.  And I don't really need it this weekend and it isn't until next Wednesday that both the Sage and I are going to be out in different directions at the same time, so really need two cars.  Sadly, we're each going to a funeral, mine in Norwich, his near Ipswich.

I wanted to book Sunday lunch at the village pub and it seemed only polite to have a drink while I was there, so I sat down with my half pint to chat to the only other drinker in the bar.  A few other people came in later and three of us were sitting at the same table - darlings, take my word for it, I'm not going to do that too often.  By the time I'd been bought a couple more drinks (I hadn't had any lunch)  I was feeling quite pie-eyed.  It wasn't the beer I usually drink but another of John's home-brew (he has a micro-brewery in what used to be the garage) and I suspect it was a little stronger, though I shouldn't think by much.  Anyway, in the end I bought a round for the others, made my excuses and stumbled home.  I'm not drinking this evening, you'll not be surprised to learn.

Wink will be here for the weekend and it's her birthday on Sunday.  She's with Al & co now, we're visiting Ro tomorrow and she's spending Sunday night with Weeza & family, rather than everyone coming here, the point being that two of the three have just moved house and she hasn't seen their new places yet.  That's the reason we're going to the pub on Sunday, doesn't seem worth cooking a big meal for three.  I'll do a nice meal with champagne tomorrow night for her birthday.  She's declared she doesn't want me to buy her a birthday present, she'd rather we go to a play or exhibition in London, which is fine by me.

Oh, and the programme for the prom concerts at Snape has arrived.  In the days I couldn't easily get away, I counted that as my summer holiday venue.  I sometimes went to ten or more concerts during the month, it was fun.  August evenings were also warmer then, by the way, and it was only twenty years ago.  Very odd.  Now I have holidays, I only go to a few - none for the past two or three years, I became discouraged at always going alone.  That is, I don't mind going on my own, but once Ro was in Norwich and the Sage wasn't bothered (he doesn't see why he should do something he's not very interested in just to keep me company), it started to feel a bit of a drag.  But not doing things is more of one, so I'm back in business.