Day off work so off MG and wife went to Bolney Village for a bit of wine tasting. All very pleasant, with informative friendly people. But wine tasting is, and this will sound daft, basically drinking wine over an extended period. Remind you of anything? Night on the lash perhaps? The organisers state that you'll drink no more than a small glass throughout. In total. So you buy into this. Three glasses later, with a 40 mile drive ahead, you suspect a big fat lie. I wasn't drink and driving, but not far off it. Half a glass at a time over a few hours though, and it must have been a close call especially as I don't drink that often, especially at lunch times. I'm quite a responsible person, and had simply bought into the sales pitch. Chatting, food, strange surroundings and I simply stopped watching my consumption. Well I did until the organiser popped the fourth bottle of champagne. Stopped then.
One suspects a few drinks may have some bearing on the level of sales post event?
Well all the same, I was fine to drive but it was close. Watch those glasses folks, and keep count. I had 175ml before noticing that the small amount in the glass "just to taste" was actually half a 125ml measure....
Got back late, had a big evening meal and AD was on the blower: "Come out for a ride!"
MG: "No. Too tired. Sod off."
AD: "I'm in your street now and about to knock on your door!"
So off we went for what turned out to be a fun 2 hour evening ride. CCJ we met at the top of the hill, so we were assured of a too fast a pace for us old uns. Luckily CCJ fell off not once but twice, both times into nettles the poor chap. We initially called out the air ambulance, but he said that he'd struggle through so we cancelled it. Nasty nettle rash to the face...... So as it stands injury wise over two weeks: AD had a minor issue needing [allegedly] six stitches in his face, the big girl's blouse. Totally unwarranted. I tore the patella right out of my kneecap [almost], but battled on without even a plaster or "kiss it better" from anybody. CCJ suffered the most horrific injury of us all - face full of life threatening organic poison. He had a really nasty rash of, oh, two, nay three nettle pricks. Very, very bad and it took minutes to settle down the poor chap. Made the papers and everything.
AD just had to fix his puncture in the worst place possible. On the trail? No. Top of the hill in a clearing? No. Nope, he did it where the doggers meet in the Reigate Hill car park. So there we are, three oddly dressed middle aged men in a known dogging spot, and AD whips out a latex tube and starts fondling it. In broad dusklight. Disgusted I was.
What gives there?
One suspects a few drinks may have some bearing on the level of sales post event?
Well all the same, I was fine to drive but it was close. Watch those glasses folks, and keep count. I had 175ml before noticing that the small amount in the glass "just to taste" was actually half a 125ml measure....
Got back late, had a big evening meal and AD was on the blower: "Come out for a ride!"
MG: "No. Too tired. Sod off."
AD: "I'm in your street now and about to knock on your door!"
So off we went for what turned out to be a fun 2 hour evening ride. CCJ we met at the top of the hill, so we were assured of a too fast a pace for us old uns. Luckily CCJ fell off not once but twice, both times into nettles the poor chap. We initially called out the air ambulance, but he said that he'd struggle through so we cancelled it. Nasty nettle rash to the face...... So as it stands injury wise over two weeks: AD had a minor issue needing [allegedly] six stitches in his face, the big girl's blouse. Totally unwarranted. I tore the patella right out of my kneecap [almost], but battled on without even a plaster or "kiss it better" from anybody. CCJ suffered the most horrific injury of us all - face full of life threatening organic poison. He had a really nasty rash of, oh, two, nay three nettle pricks. Very, very bad and it took minutes to settle down the poor chap. Made the papers and everything.
AD just had to fix his puncture in the worst place possible. On the trail? No. Top of the hill in a clearing? No. Nope, he did it where the doggers meet in the Reigate Hill car park. So there we are, three oddly dressed middle aged men in a known dogging spot, and AD whips out a latex tube and starts fondling it. In broad dusklight. Disgusted I was.
What gives there?
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