Good grief not another holiday

Due to the sheer volume of material and submissions pouring through our doors sadly we are not able to do our usual and report on this day to day but can only offer our readers a brief overview of the fun and games that he had with Boris, Glenn, Daf and Polly.

The egg started to splatter on our hero’s face not long after the journey to Alberta began when he asserted that “Minneapolis (where they were due to change planes) is a pretty small airport, should be no bother getting through there in 40 minutes.” Of course Minneapolis airport is enormous and they had to dash from one end to the other to make their connection and only just did.

On arrival at Calgary airport they threw their kit into the Dodge Durango (enormous truck type affair) and set off for Banff…without a map or asking for directions. Some 50 miles down the road he realised he was heading the wrong way and they had to do a U-turn.

By the time they arrived at their hotel he was convinced that in light of this form the place was bound to be a fleapit. Astonishingly it was not and we can heartily recommend the Douglas Fir resort.

And so the skiing began. Polly and our hero quickly established a pattern of just pointing down the fall line and hoping they could stop at the bottom whilst Dafydd (on only his second trip to the slopes) struggled manfully to keep up meanwhile Boris and Glenn on their boards buzzed around annoyingly.




With the days very full of skiing the evenings were of course filled with eating (mainly elk and caribou) and drinking but also, sadly, a great deal of boasting by Boris about his exploits in Washington. Frankly his efforts to crowbar in references to the young filly were embarrassing. Fortunately for all concerned he turned his ankle over and was in a great deal of pain whilst on the slopes such that he couldn’t face it anymore and flew home early to everyone’s relief (shurely dismay? – ed.).

With all this going on the spectre of Hoots, Sin, Buck, Douglas and the rest of the mad Canucks descending on them was getting more and more real. We remain in a bit of a haze about the precise details of the two nights they spent in town but we think the pictures probably tell the tale.






With a quick trip to Lake Louise for a day snuck into the agenda they were all well and truly knackered and ready for home come the end of the last day’s skiing and whilst the comic gods would dictate that the journey would be a disaster sadly they let us down on this occasion and they all made it home with great ease and convenience (well apart from Polly and Dafydd who had to drive to West Wales but we will gloss over that).

A fantastic trip ending with firm declarations that it must be repeated soon.

Italian Job - Finale

A number of our readers have been asking where the last chapter of this trip has got to well, with apologies for taking a holiday, here it is.

So enamoured of the idea of spending days away from the kids was he following the Sienna trip that he managed to persuade the lovely Dennis to go to Pisa for the day and trek up the Tower. Now he was particularly excited about this having been one of the last people up the Tower back in 1989 before the closed it (we are assured by the engineers that the events are unconnected, we have our doubts) and he fairly bounded up the steps…to about half-way where he nearly had a coronary.

Having enjoyed the view they set about searching the local stores for tasteless tat for their loved ones (shurely delightful souvenirs? –ed.).





With all that excitement all that remained was the journey home. For the mother, sister and nieces this promised to be an epic drive across the Alps and home but for Justin, him and Dennis matters were much more pleasant with a drive to Pisa, plane and train. Until, that is, the train they were on was cancelled (the conductor couldn’t be bothered to come back after tea at Ely station) and they got to spend an hour on a draft East Anglian platform. Lovely.

Churchy's wedding

With just 3 days back in blighty after the Italian trip our poor over-worked hero felt he needed another holiday and conveniently enough his excellent friend Churchy had arranged his wedding to the lovely Nicole (passim) in Washington (DC not Tyne and Wear) for Easter weekend.

The flight over rather resembled a York alumni convention with Glenn, Nigel and TEM (in the posh seats again), Nikki, Christine and her lovely new chap Chris (so good to have her back from the darkside) all checking in.

He was just throwing off the after effects of a dose of the (man) flu and was pleasantly surprised that he managed to sleep the entire way.

With four days in DC and a whole host of various splendid chums flying in (Julian, Sarah and Simon, Boris, Polly and Dafydd and not forgetting Churchy himself) an unforgettable few days was on the cards.

We can say that it delivered. The highlight was of course the wedding and whilst Churchy looked very good in a Stetson Julian looked like he will be starring in Brokeback Mountain 2. It is apparently traditional at American weddings for the bridesmaids and the groomsmen to keep each other company. Boris and others certainly kept that tradition up late into the night/deep into the next morning. The horror that must be being a hotel receptionist at 0300 when a drunk Brit with a Septic floosy on his arm staggers into view enquiring about the hourly rate can only be imagined.

Our hero somewhat cheated and went for an emergency power nap at around 2200 but did manage to return to the fray by 2230.

Meanwhile both he and Glenn were sharing out the largesse and treating the entire party to rounds of drinks. Only later did Boris realise they were charging it all to his room.

Our hero was delighted to meet the lovely Sarah again (passim) although whether she felt quite the same is not known but would seem unlikely.

One would have thought that by night four they would have all calmed down but not a bit of it and they all met up at Christine’s hotel for drinks before going out for supper. Christine was merrily regaling the party with how the manageress was a “f*cking bitch” (at quite high volume) when the said f*cking bitch strolled to their table and said “As it is Easter here are some treats for you”. The clink as the plates touched the table was one of the loudest noises ever heard. As Dafydd put it, “master tactician.”

Supper was at the Palm (a steak house) and of course all the boys insisted on trying to out do each other with the sizes of their steaks…and they were all undone.

Meanwhile our hero was pontificating on his favourite topic, himself. A succession of stories were laid out for the aural pleasure of the diners. None of them can ever be repeated in these pages.

And now he, Glenn, Dafydd, Polly and Boris are all heading up to Canada to get some skiing in. Should be a ball.

Bogun Towers is famous

We here at Bogun Towers are extremely excited to have learnt that we have achieved fame (shurely notoriety? – ed) and The Bogun has been cited at an International conference in Vienna to demonstrate the ways that people represent themselves differently online and in real life.

Of course we have also written a strong letter of protest to make clear that the representation of our hero’s life contained in these pages is entirely accurate. Any further allegations by them that we are anything other than scrupulous in our reportage will lead to serious repercussions. Well we might let them off if the cause is sufficiently glamorous.

Italian Job - Part 6

Having survived a day with the kids he decided to turn the tables and the next day he, his mother and the lovely Dennis set off for Sienna.

We can record that the twisty turny roads through the hills to Sienna in a Fiat Panda with his driving was somewhat stomach turning for his passengers.

However his mother was even less impressed when the arrived at Sienna which is essentially built on the side of several hills. Our long term readers will recall the fun she has with cobbles as well although she did appreciate the duomo.

Italian Job - Part 5

Having somehow survived the day in Florence and the party at the villa afterwards for his mother's birthday his sister and brother in law decided to clear off and dump the kids on our unsuspecting hero. As these photos demonstrate he hated it.

Italian Job - Part 4

The devil does not wear Prada, she wears Mothercare and is called Phoebe. After the quiet time just surviving a lá Ray Mears they decided to head down to Florence to celebrate his mother’s birthday. Having made it there without too many scares, well only one wrong turn, they settled down at one of his favourite restaurants, Le Giostre, for lunch. Phoebe was a mischievous devil and she screamed the place down. Her little sister Evie got the bug and added to the general cacophony.

After a gentle, but not peaceful, stroll past the Duomo and the Palazzo Vecchio they crossed the Arno via the Ponte Vecchio (pausing at a jewellery store to but some things (including some lovely frog cuff-links which Dennis bought him (as he had forgotten to bring some))) and jumped in a taxi back to the cars and headed back to the villa.

A long and tiring but lovely day.

Italian Job - Part 3

His sister and mother decided to head down to the shops to stock up on supplies. Unfortunately their sense of direction is somewhat lacking. Things started poorly when they turned the wrong way down the dirt track leading from the villa. As he and Giuseppe (the man who does) ran frantically after them to stop them one of the tyres blew out.

With a quick hop and a skip that was changed and the girls sent on their way. They got lost.

Meanwhile back at the ranch he was laying fires ready for the second night of survival without gas. He appears to have got the knack of it and they now produce heat instead of smoke. Amazing.

Italian Job - Part 2

The second day started rather poorly as they discovered that the gas had run out just after they had finished showering. Cooking and heating was going to be a challenge without gas.

He of course saw no problems with this and set about doing his best hunter gatherer impression and returned from his sortie with eggs. Before laying a fire in the pizza oven and getting ready to cook in it. He found this quite a challenge which at one stage required him to climb in. He climbed out with most of his hair burnt off.

Nevertheless despite these travails they managed to roast a chicken and enjoy a feast.

Italian Job - Part 1

To celebrate his mother’s 60th birthday he and his sister have decided to take her and the rest of the family away for a week to a villa in Tuscany. The lovely Dennis is also tagging along.

Justin (his brother-in-law), Dennis and he decided to go for the sensible option and fly first thing Saturday morning. His sister, mother and three small nieces took the less sensible option and started driving first thing Friday morning.

The flying division passed swiftly through Stansted to Pisa airport before jumping in a Fiat Panda and driving up into the hills. The land division made rather less good time not helped by the Mont Blanc tunnel being shut to commemorate the fire there a couple of years back.

Eventually the land division turned up some 5 hours after the flying division who had thoughtfully got the shopping in (although Justin and he nearly came to blows, they are not best shopping buddies) and got the fires started.




As things were to turn out the fire lighting practice was to be well needed.
He also got the shopping ready which consisted of hacking the heads and feet off the chickens.
Very manly.

A small island

His plans to move to Brum move on apace. This week gone has seen the delivery of his new bed to the pad. It is enormous and slightly larger than a number of island nations. As the delivery driver noted "how many birds you planning on having in this thing?"

Meanwhile in Bristol he is, temporarily, back in one his old flats and was delighted to discover, on moving in, that the last tenant has broken the freezer and generally left the place in a not very good state. We suspect the return of his deposit maybe somewhat delayed.

So this weekend kicked off with some very tedious shopping for freezers, toilet seats and other bits and pieces before the rugby cheered him up no end. With the FEBs turned over at least Wales's season has not been a complete write off.

In a desperate attempt to appear somewhat less philistinish he went to see Nicholas Nickleby on Saturday night. Of course this was only because Becky was in it and the lovely Dennis was dragging him along. Quite good in parts he recorded although arse numbingly long.

On Sunday he decided to surprise his mother and went up to London to see her and the sister and family.
The mother did a passably good act at pretending she was glad to see him.

This week promises to be hectic as he gets the flat ready for letting out to his new tenants on Thursday whilst getting ready for his next holiday in Italy this Saturday.

Toilet humour

The weekend just past was, to say the least, a touch on the hectic side. He and the lovely Dennis came down to Bristol on Friday night as Dennis was moving all of her stuff out of her flat (and up to Brum) whilst he was moving, temporarily, into one of his flats on Queen Square.

Saturday was spent grabbing glimpses of the rugby whilst packing up Dennis's stuff. Horror of horrors the Italians beat the Welsh thanks to a damn FEB referee and his miserable cheating.

Saturday night was the lovely Jo's birthday party (Tails's wife) and he and the lovely Dennis decided to go. Now there was a fancy dress theme of the Best of British and he had intended to go wearing a Welsh rugby jersey but being an organised chap didn't get round to buying one so he was the only person there not in fantastic fancy dress. The highlight had to be Tails's toilet.



Dennis had given him only one instruction for the night, don't fall asleep. He let her down of course.

Sunday was a challenge with a load more packing to do and a raging hangover but somehow it all got done and the Dennis is now safely ensconced in Brum.

Taking candy from a baby

We know it is Friday and reporting on last weekend is somewhat out of date but, hey, we've been kicking back and chilling out here at Bogun towers so live with it.

Having decided after last week that a calm weekend was required he made his way down to see his family. Of course even the basics of getting there were convoluted with a diversion via Oxford necessary as the M25 was shut.

After Friday evening at his sister's he spent the Saturday doing absolutely nothing (save for fixing his mother's free view box, which he only did to avoid being dragged to Comet so she could buy a new TV). Sunday was however a bit more crazy with a trip back to his sister's to see the nieces. Phoebe was riven with chicken pox and performed admirably in her role as a terrible two with one of the best tantrums seen in these parts in a long time.

The lovely Dennis had entrusted him with 3 chocolate bunnies for the girls but, having discovered that Evie is too young for one, he polished one off. What a gent.

Property Mogul

The recovery from Churchy's stag has taken rather longer than one might have hoped but after just over a week in the recovery wilderness he got back to his old tricks this week. Tuesday night was supposed to be a quiet night in with his good friend the lovely Helen. That plan did not start very well when he decided to kick the night off with the thick end of half a gallon of cider before even getting to hers with the Jaberwocky.

Nothwithstanding this rather poor showing (and his late arrival - by an hour) the lovely Helen served up a splendid supper and pretended to not be too unimpressed with his failure to bring any wine. With the evening wrapped up he jumped in a taxi home but then decided he wanted more booze and ending up going to one of the most dangerous looking pubs in Bristol - The Little Grosvenor. Not only did he not get killed but the evening went from strength to strength and he managed to not get home until 0915 (and therefore pulling a quick half-day holiday).

Wednesday was the last day at work for his good friend Scabby and he managed to get out of bed around lunchtime to make it in for lunch with her looking particularly grim (him not her). Clearly her leaving do couldn't just be a lunch and that evening he sank a little over a gallon of cider whilst putting the world to rights with Ram Man.

Whilst all these shenanigans have been going on he has been trying to buy a new flat in Birmingham. As you all know he is a lazy sod and so rather than looking for a place he has been trying to buy the flat that the lovely Dennis rents. Having put in a generous offer on Monday he was somewhat put out when the seller wanted to show another prospective buyer round at the weekend. Now in normal circumstances he would have arranged to visit Dennis for the weekend and be his usual charming self when this buyer turned up and quickly put them off but unfortunately he had already got plans to see his family and so he had to leave Dennis in charge of the task. Dennis is sadly far too nice for the job but she knows this and so invited her friend Sarah round to stay Friday night. Sarah, bless her, got battered and spent the entire evening throwing her guts up all over the flat. Job done as it is now his. Mind the cleaning bills might be a bit cheeky.

Churchy's stag epilogue

Well we shall just leave it to Bill:-

http://howlongittakes.blogspot.com/2007/02/most-exciting-day-ever.html

Churchy's stag Part 4

By Monday numbers were thinning rapidly and the group was down to four, Jarman, Pieter, Churchy and our hero. A gentle brunch (at the place they had meant to goto the day before) followed by a quick trip downtown for a view of the World Trade Centre and general ramble through the financial district followed.

To call it cold would not begin to do it justice and so they dived into a Starbucks at the World Financial Centre to warm up. Their barrista had a rather odd name.



Suitably refreshed, and amused, they wandered up through Tribeca and back into the West Village where they stocked up on gifts for their loved ones from a first class chocolatier.

A quick final pint in the White Horse before back to hotel and off. All in all a pretty first class few days.

It is fair to record that he was not at his best upon arrival at the office the next morning having caught the red eye back and gone straight there from Heathrow. He could at least have had a French shower.

Churchy's stag Part 3

Having gone hard at the ball on Saturday the boys were a little fragile Sunday morning and having spent like Kings the day before decided to head out of the hotel for some brunch.

Having wandered aimlessly through the mean, and freezing, streets eventually common sense and cold took hold and they staggered into a cheap and cheerful dinner on the Upper East Side (having walked past severaly more salubrious joints on the way).

Thus sustained they headed back onto the freezing streets with a view to going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. On the way they walked past the Frisk Museum and on the basis that it would be warm they dived in.

With that cultural edification tucked under their belts they headed up to the Met but once there only Major and Jarman decided to investigate whilst the rest (sans Nick whom by this stage was on his way to Philly) who decided to go for a walk through Central Park before stopping for some pastries.

Just for the record therefore on a stag do they went to an Art Gallery, for a walk in the park and to buy some pastries. Really letting their hair down.

Sadly Nigel had to leave them Sunday evening and so to see him on his way they congregated in the hotel bar for a few jars. A few too many as it transpired as Nigel promptly missed his flight back.

With Nigel gone they could move a little downmarket and headed down to McSorleys (one of our hero's old haunts) where his good friend Bill joined them.

Supper proved to be a bit of a challenge with Churchy being asked for ID and them having a row with a barman (resolved when they walked out without paying) before finally settling down for supper at a lovely little restaurant called Lavagne (with thanks to Bill for locating it). He of course promptly fell asleep at the table.

Churchy's stag Part 2

Having eaten like a hobbit the day before (breakfast at Heathrown, second breakfast on the 'plane, lunch on the 'plane, second lunch at the Spotted Pig and supper at the steakhouse) he awoke Saturday morning with his guts having simply given up and a large undigested mass of food stuck in his stomach. As it was clearly never going down he cleverly managed to get rid of it the other way. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he pucked his guts up. Rock and Roll.

Clearly a light breakfast was the order of the day and so he duly ordered a kilo of foie gras stacked on a loaf of brioche. He recorded it as being, "the stupidest thing I have ever ordered by a country mile." We agree.

Having weighed themselves down they decided to go on a quick helicopter trip around the island. Imagine their faces when the ground-crew laughed at their suggestion that they could all go in one 'chopper'. "You are too fat" was the essential message.

Having forced two of their number onto another aircraft the five left, including our hero, were further humiliated as pilot after pilot refused to take them and lighter groups of passengers leapfrogged them in the cue. Eventually the skies above darkened and a heavy lift chopper hove into view to take them on their trip (after having dumped fuel to reduce its weight).

With the sound of laughter ringing in their ears they strolled back towards their hotel and up Broadway to Times Square. By this stage the tourism thing was wearing thin and so they jumped in a taxi to Brooklyn to visit the brewery there. They managed 40 minutes in the outer boroughs before being too frightened of the guns and natives and so braves the subway back to Manhattan.

Yet another steakhouse followed for supper (he managed to stay awake this time) before they decided to investigate the less seemly side of life. The Penthouse Executive Club was first on the agenda and was followed by The Fantasy Club. Nigel's cello playing was a rare treat.

Churchy's stag Part 1

After a night on the sauce with Gay George (Not Actually Gay) he was up at some unseemly hour to make the quick trip to Heathrow. In fact so quick that he was so engrossed playing with the new features on his swanky new 'phone that he had to be nudged awake by the driver on arrival.

With him, Glenn, Nigel and Martin (Churchy's allegedly more sensible older brother) all on the same flight the attendants must have been somewhat nervouse about having them alltogether and so upgraded Major to Club. Nigel being the man of the people that he is had already booked himself into Club. Glenn and our hero were therefore stuck out back.

To deal with the disappointment he kicked off the drinking early by ordering one of these
at a little before 0700. An aggresive start to the weekend.

Clearly the general soporific affect was passed onto the pilot who reported that "we hope to land around lunchtime" which demonstrated a rather high level of imprecision. Particularly as the in-flight entertainment system could be tuned to show a map with distances and time to arrival. Glenn was somewhat bemused that they did not have this facility in the cockpit.

On arrival at JFK, after a gentle snooze, imagine his surprise when there was snow on the ground and a rather wintry wind in the air. Imagine his friends amusement at his lack of warm clothes.



A gentle start was of course called for so met up with the others (Churchy, Pieter and Nick) and they hit the Spotted Pig in the West Village for a quick half gallon of "Pig" (a rather aggresively alcoholic pint) before sinking another couple at the White Horse (passim) before an early supper at a steakhouse. He of course just fell asleep at the table in the usual way.

Churchy's stag prologue

His American chums are already getting excited about his arrival:- http://howlongittakes.blogspot.com/2007/02/bolton-1-arsenal-3-aet.html

Rugby Legend Part 2

Last Friday the rugby fans for Bristol were all of a quiver all day as the got ready for the benefit dinner of the millenium for a stalwart of the local game whose last season this has been.

We are of course talking about Mark Regan and not our hero.

He found himself on a table to avid rugby fans and another washed up rugby player apparently now making a new career for himself as a dancer. We had not heard of Matt Dawson before, we wonder if our readers had.

As ever with two retired rugby players they competed throughout the evening with their respective tales of rugby glory. Despite his most valiant efforts in the scheme of things the World Cup winner probably won out.

We were hoping to be able to report that at least things had been a bit more competitive on the dance floor but our hero got so legless on red wine he had to leave before the dancing started. Impressive stuff.

This weekend is Churchy's stag in New York so we do hope to be able to report on some excitment next week. Stay tuned.

Broken wagon

Some good news at last. The past week has seem him leap off the wagon and smash it into smithereens with a handy axe. Only the invigorating power of strong cider could provide him with the strength to achieve this act of wanton destruction.

A brief skip through events would look like this:-

Monday

Bumped into Tigger and Danny whilst leaving the office and ended up joining them and the lovey Dennis for half a gallon of cider before quaffing red wine at a curry house.

Tuesday

The lovely Dennis's birthday. Mojitos, Bloody Marys and Cosmopolitans in Hotel du Vin with a whole host of people from work.

Wednesday

Gay George (Not Actually Gay) arrives for a couple of nights. The night is kicked off with a Mojito in HdV before 7 bottles of red wine are polished off.

Thursday

He cooks for Gay George (Not Actually) Gay and the lovely Dennis. Somehow he manages something vaguely palatable. 3 bottles of wine and a bottle of port is the quite light level of damage.

Saturday

He heads to London and hits the nightlife hard with his chum Aqua Ben. We are not sure if it was the Hookah or the £36 shot of whisky that puts him over the edge but he ends up sending 31 texts to one of his work colleagues (the lovely Abbie). Stalker.

Wainwright

Well the wagon that was supposed to keep him going through January has proven to be a very rickety beast from which he has fallen on a couple of occasions and had to make running repairs with just a few pints of strong cider to sustain him.

Despite this the month has as we feared been very quiet and has yet to produce anything worth your correspondent’s effort.

This past week has seem him crack however on 3 occasions and so we are optimistic that the wagon may be approaching a state too broken to be repaired. His good friend Big Gay Ben enjoyed his last day at work with him on Thursday and this provoked a beer at lunch along, it must be recorded, with a very fine pie from The Old Duke pub, never has a spit and sawdust place impressed him so with its food.

Having cracked at lunch he could hardly avoid a beer in the evening to, again, mark BGB’s departure but depressingly he kept himself to 3 pints before heading home.

Clearly his good friend Jaberwocky is a friend of this column and he sought to further tempt him off the wagon on Friday night with a curry (along with the lovely Boggy, one of the Angels and his good friend Metro). Sadly even the previously infallible temptations of Kingfisher on tap failed to work their magic and just 3 of the bad boys passed his lips before he and Jaberwocky retired to the Coronation for a last orders pint, one has to worry how that place will survive once the smoking ban comes into force.

Today he is heading up to Birmingham for a quiet celebration tonight of the lovely Dennis’s birthday (which is next Tuesday). He is carless and so has entrusted himself to the rail network. Of course due to engineering works he had to go via Newport to get to Gloucester and then get a coach the rest of the way. 4 hours door to door does not compare well with the one hour he can do it in his old car. THe miracles of public transport.

Teetotal

We have recently had little to report on and so have not reported on it. This is all due to some nonsensical idea on his part to not drink for a while. He piled on a few pounds over December and is so vain that he cannot deal with it so is ruining all our fun by not drinking for a while and providing no material for your correspondent. How selfish can you get?

We are working on him to crack but he even went out with his chums Chris and the lovely Jennie on Friday night to the pub and did not drink so we may have to take some time to wear him down. At worst he will crack in time for Churchy's stag in mid-February but hopefully we can get him before then. Stay tuned.

Cut and Shut

Well we are delighted to report that he survived the butchery of the surgeons.



He, of course, greatly amused the nursing staff with his constant wise-cracks, we are sure they have never heard "pardon me, what was that?" in response to "so do you have any hearing problems?".

So exasperated were they that they persuaded the surgeon to bump him up the list so they could get rid of him that night. Following surgery he was cracking the gags in recovery and unsurprisingly they he was in and out very sharpish.

This morning after a fine night's sleep he is kicking back and chilling out watching the cricket and cooking pigeons.

Festive Fun

We at Bogun towers have been enjoying our festive break but have been deluged with pestering messages wondering where our missives have gone so here goes with a general update. We believe we have his Office party, Christmas day and New Year's Eve to report on.

Office Party

As is traditional for these annual events in the build up to them the HR department become increasingly nervous about his likely conduct as usual sending him rather unsubtle e-mails and articles about the perils of sexual harassment claims.

They of course had nothing to worry about. He just arrived late, drank the place dry, refused to participate in the space hopper fun and had to be carried home by the lovely Dennis, poor girl. His memory of the event was entirely vague and so he still went round the next day apologising to all the pretty girls on general principles that he must have done something wrong.

Christmas Day

A family affair with his mother, sister, brother-in-law and three small nieces.



He was of course hugely smug when the middle niece produced the best reaction of the day upon opening her gift from him. It's tragic really. For the record the gift was a stool with lumpy on it created by his lovely friend Jo.

The smugness did not end there as with the thick end of a bottle of brandy inside him he proceeded to smash his family at Trivial Pursuits. Trivial does rather sum up his kicks nowadays.

Christmas to New Year

A rather quiet one this year although he did meet up with the lovely Janina, from diving, and catch up with her. She rather bravely has decided to go for the world record for deepest female descent. Readers of ages past will recall his sterling work on the support boat of another water based effort (see Chapter 54 - http://thebogun.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_thebogun_archive.html) and Janina was literally underwelmed at his offer to go out and support her.

New Year's Eve

The lovely Dennis had agreed, after much badgering, to hosting a party at her funky new Birmingham flat and his chums Rob and Helen and Dafydd and Polly and Dennis's friends Amy and Matt all agreed to come.

Now neither the lovely Dennis or he are very good at portion control and so the pre-party shopping trip was a bit of a joke truth be told. The standard exchanage being, Dennis "are you sure that's enough", him, "no idea, chuck another couple in". As a result the bill took 5 minutes to print out and is longer than he is.

The next couple of days were spent carrying all this stuff from the car to the flat and trying to find somewhere to store it.

A fantastic party was had by all with plenty of food and booze (less than 1/3rd got eaten and drunk however) consumed. The party was themed (the theme being Latin Fever) and some fine costumes were on display.



(we apologise for the quality of the pictures, the photographer had been at the sherry).

To top matters off at midnight they enjoyed some fantastic fireworks (with thanks to Birmingham City Council) before roughly destroying a poor Pinata donkey. Very few of the sweets were consumed however as Dafydd and Polly's dog rather got amongst them and shed.

2007

Well what can we expect this New Year to bring, more excitement and derring do or just a descent into drudgery and grind? Who knows but you'll read it all here first.

Rather by co-incidence both your correspondent and your hero are going into hospital tomorrow to undergo surgery so if there is no post by Thursday one or other of them has died on the table.