Pub Disaster

I haven’t been able to bring myself to ring home today. I thought I might have had a call from them, following on from Sal and Ian going there for lunch but so far there has been nothing. Talk about no news is good news.. Long may it continue.

Very boring day here. I’d finished the Mail on Sunday by 1 o’clock and headed over to the dining hall with Henry and John Simms for a roast. Absolute pig feed. I think it was supposed to be beef but it was essentially gristle and tube accompanied by potatoes that weren’t so much roasted as lightly suntanned and carrots that had been so ferociously boiled there wasn’t a scrap of flavour, texture or presumably nutrient left in them. I really wonder what poor old Dad is paying for sometimes.

Worse still Ralph and I pretended to go for a cross country run this afternoon. He’d never been out on a Sunday and it seemed madness as it was the perfect opportunity to sink a few pints. We got dressed in the appropriate gear but obviously didn’t break a sweat on our way out there. We were just about to head through the door when I heard the not so dulcet tones of Mr Jeeves guffawing from within. Thank Christ I was able to stop Ralph pushing the door open or we’d have been mincemeat had he seen us. Bloody gutted that we’ve discovered he frequents the place as it means it’s going to make our trips there a hell of lot more nerve-wracking than we’d previously thought they might be.

Psyching myself up for driving test number two now. Fortunately I don’t have to re-sit the ridiculously banal theory exam. To be frank they really could do with making that bit a damn sight harder. Then there might not be so many ghastly twits on the road. Fat chance..