Cider with Mosey
Aug. 7th, 2004 05:48 pmYesterday lunchtime Dad and I moseyed for an hour or so up by river to the 'local' cider pub, The Camp, and played Crib (One game each. Many cries of "Muggins!"="There was a scoring combination you didn't see. Under some rulesets, I would score it instead of you, but we play that I'm morally obliged to point it out to you, but I may humiliate you loudly by doing so." It's a call that should be more widespread :))
Why does cider affect me so much (apart from being nearly 10%)? After one pint, I'm queasy. After nearly half a dozen, and only as many hours of sleep, (coming soon: Jack tried to catch a train to birmingham at 8.25am) I'm destroyed. And it's not a good state of mind to be estimating card-dealing probabilities in in the teeth of someone who plays crib for a living.*
And then we went to the pub with mum in the evening as well, and chatted about how they were so proud of me, etc. (coming soon: how my life is on track bar being fit and not wearing socks with shorts.)
Being polite does pay off, apparently. I always think of myself as a most selfish individual, yet some things are just me to the extent I can't not. I can't drop litter. I can't not let someone go ahead of me in corridors. I can't help but completely forgive someone if they apologize, whatever they may have done. I can't defraud a company I don't really hate. But when I stood aside to let two girls up the stairs and the first one said "Wow, a real gentleman! No-one does that." and kissed me. So being nice isn't an entirely lost cause.
*Dad works part time in a centre for amusing old and potentially senile folks, many of whom are though amazingy sharp card-wise, and playing crib is one of the activities.
Why does cider affect me so much (apart from being nearly 10%)? After one pint, I'm queasy. After nearly half a dozen, and only as many hours of sleep, (coming soon: Jack tried to catch a train to birmingham at 8.25am) I'm destroyed. And it's not a good state of mind to be estimating card-dealing probabilities in in the teeth of someone who plays crib for a living.*
And then we went to the pub with mum in the evening as well, and chatted about how they were so proud of me, etc. (coming soon: how my life is on track bar being fit and not wearing socks with shorts.)
Being polite does pay off, apparently. I always think of myself as a most selfish individual, yet some things are just me to the extent I can't not. I can't drop litter. I can't not let someone go ahead of me in corridors. I can't help but completely forgive someone if they apologize, whatever they may have done. I can't defraud a company I don't really hate. But when I stood aside to let two girls up the stairs and the first one said "Wow, a real gentleman! No-one does that." and kissed me. So being nice isn't an entirely lost cause.
*Dad works part time in a centre for amusing old and potentially senile folks, many of whom are though amazingy sharp card-wise, and playing crib is one of the activities.