My husband and I walk into the pub on Saturday night to meet a bunch of Brits and John's already sneering at this one guy. "What's wrong?" I said to John (Irish, supports Man U). "That guy's wearing a Fulham shirt and he's not even embarrassed about it," John replies. Now, I don't pretend to know why it's shameful to support Fulham, but I told John to behave. Well, luckily the Fulham guy pushed off before there was a bloodbath.
Other Brits of note were Darren, husband of my long suffering friend Daisy (Yank). Daisy is the only person in the world who does not believe Darren is certifiable. He had had a busy day. Their washing machine was broken and he had spent a long time taking it apart to find out what was wrong with it. He could not find out what was wrong with it and also could not put it back together. This is a guy who is training to be a dentist. Frankly, I wouldn't let him anywhere near my mouth, or my washing machine for that matter.
To get away from his conversation about whether he should buy a front or top loader, I started talking to a fat guy from Nottingham called Mike, with a long flowing beard and hair.
"I'm doing a degree in military history," he told me. "I'm obsessed with battles."
I was about to ask, "You're not one of those wankers who does battle reenactments are you?" but he beat me to it and said,
"When I lived in England we did Viking reenactments all over the country. It was fantastic."
I gathered he was a bit of a fantasist. But wait, it got worse.
"I saw Twister Sister in concert last year. They were as brilliant as they were twenty years ago."
Er, weren't Twisted Sister heinously embarrassing even in they heyday?
Wait. It got worse.
"I reckon England's got a good chance of beating Croatia to qualify for the European Championships."
I roared with laughter. It was clear that this Viking was severely delusional.
He suggested we all meet for a pub crawl next week and declared that when he lived in Nottingham they'd do twenty-two pubs on an all dayer, but with a fried breakfast in the morning, to settle their stomachs. "Anyone up for it?" he said.
I realized I must have a very serious sense of home sicknesses if I was even considering going on this pub crawl with this Viking, Darren the Crazed Dentist, the Fulham Supporter and assorted other Brits.
Then I realized I wouldn't be able to crawl to more than maybe two or three pubs. I used to be able to crawl with the best of them, but these days, well, three pints are probably my limit.
Alas, my pub crawling days are over ... RIP.
The Lounge. Blogging Break.
10 hours ago