_. Up at 10:30. I didn't know where the Hell I was when my pink eyes opened to the cave-like, clammy bedroom. All to the kitchen for a colossal fried breakfast of Edwardian proportions. You know, the usual scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, baked beans, &c. By 12 though we were safely amassed in the Forester's Arms [a Tetley house] where we passed the duration of the afternoon. Nauseating video games are on the increase. The whole pub vibrated and shook to the sound of 'space invaders', and all the intergalactic life and death struggles that go with it, fruit machines, the juke box, &c. It isn't surprising that the pub cat is insane. It staggered about the bar, with bulging red eyes, sinking it's needle-like teeth into all and sundry. Joined at 7 by Lynn, Dave B, Chris and Julie, and at 8 by Dave L. All at the Devonshire singing along to a drunk playing an accordion very badly. Dave L was very pleased about the engagement. He left us at 11:15 spattered in port and lemon. Lynn and Co joined us at the cottage for a few drinks but it wasn't successful. We were all too drunk, and to poor Lynn [drinking tomato juice] it must have looked like a scene from a bawdy nineteenth centurty music hall, and not a very good one at that. Susan's flowery language is quite amazing - she always puts on such a good floor show at these weekend gatherings with the Stockport lads. Chris and Julie are such demure characters, though I do get the impression that Julie could be quite a scream if she tried. Ally was pissed. The girls had been drinking pints.
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