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The weekend began well.

On Friday I night I went out with some folk to a Mexican restaurant. Well it was a restaurant selling Mexican food, not one in Mexico. I would hate for us to get off on the wrong foot with this. There is nothing worse than publishing a blog and suddenly realising that you’ve lied to your two readers, who then come to your house with burning torches and nail you to a plank.

So yes I was at a restaurant selling Mexican food with some nice people. They were so nice in fact that I carried on drinking with them afterwards and when they went home I drank with some more nice people until I eventually staggered home.

Then the morning came.

On waking, the exhaustion hit me like a bag of feathers, I’m simply not cut out for late nights anymore. I can take the drink but the lack of good quality sleep clobbers me. I did my usual ‘morning after’ power on self test. This involves my attempting to remember if I’ve insulted anybody or done anything inappropriate that would require an apology. Happily on this occasion I’d got away with it. However my relief was short lived when I remembered that Tom and Andy were due in half an hour to record a podcast and -horror upon horror – I had no biscuits in the house!

After a super speedy shower and getting dressed, I ran from the house to the local shop where I bought several packets of yummy biscuits. At the same time I remembered that I needed to buy some electricity as I have a pre-pay meter which was left by the previous occupant of my cottage and I’m too lazy to get it replaced. So not unreasonable I walked through the door of the post office next door to the shop and asked for a twenty pound top-up. The bloke behind the counter pulled his best ‘I hate you’ face and said “sorry we’re closed.” Sadly in my delicate condition I found this too much to bear, so for some unknown reason I called the bloke a “soapy literature hank” and flounced out of the shop. I’d only gone about six feet when I realised that I’d done something very very bad and that I really should apologise. So I swallowed my pride and went back into the Post Office where the man sat patiently as I apologised. However when I’d finished my grovelling admonishment of my own behaviour he stood up, pulled down the blind on the till and said “Sorry mate we’re closed.” What a twatmonger.

So the day had started badly and it very nearly got worse.

Within twenty minutes Tom and Andy arrived on my doorstep. Tom looked like he’s been pulled through a forest head first. He was shaking slightly and clutching a paper cup of coffee. Andy was his usual jolly self and he’d brought Lisa’s dog Dill who readers of this blog will know well. So things were looking up and I made everybody coffee and put the biscuits on a plate. After our usual sound check we started the podcast. This is where things very nearly went awry.

Andy had planned an opener to the podcast which depended on either me or Tom shouting out the episode number. Sadly as Tom and me were operating at a very basic level and had failed to grasp this. So when the moment came we both (in the belief that it would be funnier) shouted out random numbers. This somewhat annoyed Andy and we had an argument. Well Andy and me did, Tom just sat giggling at us from his chair. However we’re good chums so the argument fizzled out quite quickly and we began the podcast again. It seemed to go OK even though both Tom and me were zonked out. However my autopilot engaged and I got through it by feigning hatred of epileptics and Post Office workers which is always the case. Tcha!

So that was the podcast that nearly failed.

That story was very dull.

Fish for tea.

Postal Pods

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