Still, the possibility of part-time work had me hurriedly renovating the "Corporate Website", which meant I got to practice fixing cross-browser problems caused by not wanting to steal stuff too blatantly. It's a pity the effect is spoiled by having decided that the text I'd written on web development was too much of a rant to keep it up somewhere I'm trying to persuade people to employ me. So that's going to need fixing soon.
Play-time this weekend was mostly at the Pond. Considering the amount of drinking that got done on Friday and Saturday, it's perhaps as well that I'd only stayed at K. Jackson's for a couple of drinks on the Thursday (combination of cold-induced deafness and inability to taste the beer, followed by a sudden increase in the noise level of the pub when a Burns' Supper got out).
The first visit to the Pond was on Friday evening with
Eventually we headed up the road, having bought four bottles of wheat beer (which I'd promised faithfully to return on Saturday) and detoured briefly into Homes' Bar.
Of course, as we'd been out since the middle of the afternoon, we'd not been keeping up with LiveJournal, so it was a bit of a surprise to turn up at
We taxi'd back to Trinity and filled in
The next day,
I didn't do too much work: I was getting nowhere with the wording, so I took a break to watch the previous night's documentary on Admiral Lord Cochrane (Scottish naval hero from the Napoleonic Wars on whom Patrick O'Brian's Jack Aubrey was based) with one of the undrunk bottles of beer from the night before. Half way through both programme and bottle, I'd a phone call suggesting a return to the Pond. Stopping the tape and finishing the bottle, I set off.
There was something strsange on the bus: a group of about half a dozen or so rugby types who seemed to be celebrating Hogmanay somewhat late this year (to the extent of having their Princes Street Party wristbands on).
Slight case of deja vu on arrival at the Pond. Not only did it look nearly as empty as the night before, but they were still on the first barrel. I returned the empties from the night before, and asked what I should do about the unopened one. It seemed that the most sensible thing to do was to trade it for a colder one from the fridge and drink it there and then.
I was barely halfway down the bottle when Gary and Sara arrived. Conversation, cigarettes (bad! we're all in various stages of giving up) and more beer. After a couple of glasses, Sara had to head, so Gary and I more or less settled in for the night: more smoked beer, a couple of nice dunkel beers and another wheat beer (I've a feeling there may have been a second smoked beer, too), interleaved with nibbles in the form of bowls of olives with pickled garlic and ginger. Went back to listen to music and drink and such until suddenly it was 3am and time to head home. Half way up the hill, I found I'd a phone message from
Sunday was quite a productive day in terms of getting stuff done for the new site (apart from the anti-flash anti-"bells and whistles" rant), and while Messrs Bremner Bird and Fortune weren't up to the high standard they'd set themselves with Between Iraq and a Hard Place, it was a pretty good programme. Which brings me to where I came in, I think.