Mad dogs and Englishmen...

In recent days Jen, myself and our housemate Dave have been trotting down to one of our local public houses, The Wheatsheaf. It has a very warm and relaxed atmosphere, comfy (well worn in) big armchairs and lounges, many fine ales and lagers, a friendly host and his charming bitch.. Maggie.

When we first met Maggie she was lying in a heap on the floor... naked. She was begging for food at an adjacent table and eventually came to us looking for a hand out. We dropped a bit of the fat left from our meals and she seemed gratified. We tried to extend our hands in friendship, but she was reticent to return our greeting. After some coaxing with a bit of food she mounted the back of our lounge and I was able to rub her tummy for a while. By closing time we felt sure we would eventually become friends.

Last night our entire household - Jen, Mark, Kelly, myself and Dave (plus Dave's pseudo Canadian cousin Sarah) - decided to visit the Wheat for a rollicking night of trivia. It was quite busy and most of the groups participated in the trivia. Our witty Irish host collected our 1 pound coins, we collected a jug of Fosters and a jug of something called "Snakebite" (beer, cider & grenadine) and we were off and running.

We had a very good first round and were positioned about 4th. Our second round started with a football question.. we all looked to Mark (sport nut) he didn't let us down! Kellys thorough knowledge of all things celebrity had us icorrectly identifying Anna Nicole Smiths chin (if only we listened to her about the Lasagna question!)

With questions spanning food, history, picture questions on movies and music, and many others, we felt a little shaky... maybe it was that fourth jug... not quite sure. We exchanged our answer sheets and waited. When the dust settled we had finished in equal first place! We were ecstatic!

It was then... a lone voice, in a low Irish tone, said those immortal words.... SUDDEN DEATH PLAY-OFF. I reluctantly rose and stepped to the centre of the room. A hush fell over the crowd (and I think some women fainted) "Name the year" said our host. My throat dried, body tensed. The clues ensued. 1998 is shrieked. WRONG! 1997 shouted the opposition. Wrong! And so it went, guess for guess. Like two proud heavyweight boxers in a world title fight ( bearing in mind we were both middle-aged, overweight and had no clue what bloody year it was). It seemed that everyone else in the room apart from the two of us actually able to answer knew the answer! 1995 is screamed. Wrong! '1994' said the little balding Indian man. We have a winner!

But a fleeting moment in the sun. A lifetime in shame.
Although the publican did reward our fine performance with a free jug of snakebite.

We will re-group and return to the Wheat next week... and cover ourselves in glory, for we are brave... we are easily intoxicated... and damn it... we are AUSTRALIANS!!

Flying the Flag....

Stephen.

Jen & Kelly

Kelly, Mark & Stephen

Dave & Sarah

Maggie

Stephen & Maggie

To see all the pics - click here

BTW: regarding "why our favourite" etc. The very coolest thing about London pubs is the fact that you are able to take your best (four legged) friend inside with you for a drink. I wish our little black buddy was here to share a night out! Having Maggie come and attack our shoelaces or play fetch or just fall asleep in the armchair beside us, warms our hearts. Having said farewell to our own dogs,having Maggie (and an array of other local dogs) to pat is very nice indeed.

Bye all and give your pets a pat (they're worth it).

Stephen.