It was always going to be tough. Fibonacci arriving at Genoa, business class on BA with his latest squeeze in tow. 6' tall, high heels and Welsh to boot (the squeeze, not Fred). A late lunch on the Thursday set the tone for the weekend; five bottles of wine between the three of us (Mrs Combo having scented serious incoming and fled), down to the bar for a bottle of Prosecco and then off to a local trat for, well, frankly I just remember more Prosecco and then a lot more red. Back to Combo Towers for grappa afterwards. Ditto for Friday with a bit of an embarassing slowdown on Saturday due to drink exhaustion, but some fine wines in the evening courtesy of Car Dealer Bruno. On Sunday Fred took his Amazonian bimbo back to Genoa where they enjoyed as much BA hospitality as is humanly possible on a 1 hour 50 minute flight to London. These are the gifts they brought/half-inched from Duty Free: the mythical Hendrick's gin (untouched, waiting for a cucumber) and a serious malt with serious packaging, the Isle of Jura (touched, Friday night).
Someone, anyone, stop me before I drink again. But not just yet.
8 comments:
there is an interesting connection between Jura and the foreskin/bonnet catch incident with Lord Ashley's three series that needs investigating. Sorry to put you off your drink.
Ouch! My imagination is running away here. I've seen a three series bonnet catch. That explains the walk.
I wondered how long it would be (fnarr,fnarr) before Diplomat rowed that one out.
Untouched....waiting for a cucumber. Really! Isn't that more the Widdecombe brand?
not too sure about the virgin gin thing. I was wondering whether Ron has maybe over done it - not heard from him lately on these pages. Recent visits to Unmitigated England have resukted in a well earned bollocking and I think this may have knocked the wind out of his sails. Peter - if you paying attention, do you think Ron's drinking has been interfering with his pumping station or is it the other way around ?
You can never tell with Ron, Diplo.
I think it all gets slightly confused.
Incidentally, my Glamorous Travelling Companion, with no reference to Peter Ashley's hallowed Blog, wondered, aloud, whether Ron had a fully-functioning pumping station whilst helping me to pick out the exotic flowers I intend to press as a souvenir of our fact-finding mission to Piedmont. I assured her he had no need, as it was all done mechanically by some chaps from down the lane, with a big truck.
Relieved, we continued to pick flowers before retiring to the kitchen to toss some salad before supper.
Oh Fred, I always knew....
No. this won't do. Heaven forbid that I should Ron's blog for a grovelling apology, but I haven't forgotten you.
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