from a trip to the country. On Friday night the “season” began in earnest, but all of us seemed to be preserving our energies, or perhaps recuperating from all the Resistential dinners that led up to this one (which was, in truth, no Resistential dinner – despite most of us being present). Every weekend between now and early January is booked for some event or other, starting with this drive to have dinner in the place of my childhood, named after pumpkins.
The maternal unit had suggested revisiting a restaurant we’d been to 3 or 4 times, but not for around two years, and not since a change of management. The primary evidence of new managerial influence was not positive, with most of our party experiencing some version of disappointment. But that was two evenings ago, and whatever I planned to say about the excursion has faded from memory – primarily because my faculties are still somewhat compromised by last night’s revelry.
It was, you see, a birthday weekend. My birthday. And Friday night was the night before, and an opportunity for a civilised dinner with mother and a few friends. Last night was the occasion that left me feeling like a pig had shat inside my head, to borrow the words of Withnail. We again went to the country, in that while we were only 5 minutes out of the city, mountains and such were in close proximity. Perhaps one of the more regular Resistential bloggers will post further detail, as I am tonight merely attempting to get my blog momentum up, as my post count is falling way behind. Shameful this is, from the model of the Resistential man… nevertheless, now that I have finished all the back-end work, designing the site, I shall hopefully be more present than before.
Closing thoughts: While I have yet to cut something with my new 20cm Global knife (see forums), you should believe everything good said about them – they look and feel good enough to service many a fine dinner. And if you ever meet H.M., Slack2Slack or Debored on the streets of some city, or propping up some bar, be sure to get them a round of drinks. They are true Resistentialists, and fine friends to boot.