How time flies when you’re earning money!

To use the set phrase unadulterated in the context of recent weeks would be to give a false impression of the level of enjoyment I derive from my current job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really quite nice, and the people are great, and the canteen has big tasty portions, but any job is going to be less fun than doing whatever you feel like, all day, all week, like I have been for the past several months.

Well, what’s been doing since last I blogged apart from earning an honest crust for a change? Let’s see now, I’ve been back & forth to the UK a couple of times for stag dos, I’ve been ill, I’ve got better, I’ve eaten dinner with a variety of people, I’ve been to the theatre a few times, I’ve been to the gym not enough times, I’ve been to feed Béné’s cat while she was on holiday, I’ve sung in my choir, I’ve played badminton, I’ve drunk beer & wine & champagne & spirits & coffee & tea.

I could leave it there actually! I mean, it’s a complete list. A bit sparse on the detail front, but does that really matter? Okay, perhaps I should offer a little bit more about the most exciting parts of the last month, namely my two stag dos back in Blighty:

The first one was in a sense “my” stag do: I have the honour of being Best Man at Andrew & Kath’s upcoming nuptials, and so in theory I should have put loads & loads of effort into arranging a memorable day for the bridegroom-to-be. This proved a little tricky however, given that I live in Germany and the stag do was to be held in Liverpool. The result was a minimalist tour-de-force, a do that was pared down to the essentials: a bunch of blokes, a bunch of beers, a couple of pubs, some rugby on the telly, a curry and a bit of female flesh.

I had a great time! Andrew picked me up from Manchester airport and we had some time in the car to have a proper catch-up (it’s been a while since I saw him for any length of time). Then, after dumping my bag at his, we headed into town to get my train ticket for the morrow and then on up to the Philharmonic Pub, our first port of call. There the two of us slowly became seven: Andrew, myself, Chris, James, Jamie, Jezza & H. Our original lunch plan got ditched in favour of lots of crisps.

About six pints later we moved on to our second venue, the Fly In The Loaf, some 100 yards away from the Phil. There we drank more, ate some (well I did – a tasty slab of pork pie and pickled onions), and watched the rugby, joined (in a refreshingly modern way) by Jamie’s girlfriend. The extra beers (including exotica such as Australian microbrewery specials that I haven’t seen in years) and a cheeky round of sambuccas gave everyone an appetite, so we headed to a nearby curry house.

It really wasn’t a very good curry, but no-one was in a state to complain, after by this time about ten pints apiece. Instead, we wolfed the food down, drank our Cobras up, and moved on to pub number three, the name of which for some reason now escapes me. From there, we moved on – at the strong insistence of the youngest member of our troupe – to a nearby lapdancing club. Fun was had by all – especially by the owners, who are raking in the money with the prices they charge!

The next day getting up was hard. I had to leave quite early, because I had left myself a huge safety margin for the train journey down to London. The last thing I wanted to do was miss my flight! But in the end the train was only half an hour late into Euston, so I rang Dan and had lunch with him at one of those delicious all-you-can-eat veggie curry places behind the station. We stuffed our faces, as only the True Pie-Eaters can. Then, after a coffee, I left Dan & headed for the nearest Tube station, only to discover it was shut!

So suddenly my trip to Heathrow became critically cutting-it-fine stressful. I made sure to check in online in an internet café, but I made the mistake of not printing out my boarding pass. This, two hours later, cost me my flight and my peace of mind. Because, ladies and gentlemen, the bastards at Terminal 5 didn't let me go through security owing to the fact that I was 30 seconds - really, thirty seconds! - late joining the queue.

This being because I had had to queue for ages to get a boarding pass printed out, and the lady who did that not telling me to get over to security double-quick, so instead I went for a pee (I was gasping after that long Tube ride and the lunch & coffee with Dan), and thence to security, and thence via a succession of BA staff to the desk to be waitlisted for the next flight. Which of course ended up being delayed an hour. But at least I got on that one (had to be shoe-horned on, mind; it was über full!) and so didn't have to crash at Chris & Kate's that night!

And then, five days, two feedings of Béne's cat and one Greek dinner with my mate Hias later, I had lots of stag do fun all over again, this time in London...