The day that stella and scrabble ruined my trousers
Discussion
Well, it was a lovely weekend away. Up to Wales to see mrs emsmans dad, and his 'girlfriend'.
On the beach on saturday in the sun (although not much heat) for emsman jnr to drive his landrover, dig holes, build sandcastles, and throw some stones into the sea (in a bid to raise the sea level-good lad) and (for those with a sufficiently good memory) no crab fishing. Perfect.
And it was perfect. Jnr had the time of his life, I got some much needed fresh air, and good for mrs emsman to catch up with her dad.
Now, her dad is a lovely bloke-83 and going strong. Problem is, he is something of a drinker- as in, arrive at 11am, would you like a drink? erm, yes a coffee would be lovely thanks. No. I meant a drink, im on white wine, would you like a stella.
Managed to avoid it for friday, until jnr was safely in bed, then enjoyed a few.
Now, his 'girlfriend' who is 78 is also a lovely, lovely person. A superb cook, a wonderful host, and great with jnr. She is also heavily religious, which may well be the root of the problems that followed.
Anyway, on friday night, as they are both getting on and dont watch much TV, they suggested a game of scrabble. Great. Still, not wanting to be the one to say no, we all duly sat down, and played scrabble. And it was OK. I actually quite enjoyed it. We played in pairs, and team emsman managed a convincing win against the old timers who thought they had it in the bag. Interested parties note the use of the word 'fen' across two double word scores, claiming the victory- narrow, but still a win.
Well, i thought that would be that, everyone was happy, and it was bed time.
Wrong.
By all accounts, its the first time they have lost a game in over 4 years.
And they were not happy.
Saturday morning arrived with an early wake up call from Jnr,so, up, showered, shaved (so as to appear human to our hosts) and gave jnr his breakfast, then back to the beach, after struggling to load the landrover in the back of the range rover on my own. Again, very, very happy times. A couple of hours of an empty beach, trying to teach the young hooligan how to do donuts. More sandcastles, more digging, more building dams and so on.
Back to the house, get both of us changed, as we are out for lunch.
Over lunch, I learn that due to the defeat the previous evening, mrs emsmans dads girlfriend has arranged for a friend to visit in the evening, to take us on at scrabble again- she is the local church champion no less, and the last person to beat them all those years ago. Im slightly pissed off due to not really wanting to play again. Needs must it would appear, as they are not going to let the small matter of defeat go easily.
So, lunch and a couple of pints and a glass of wine.
Play with jnr for a while, but he is early to bed due to a late night, and running around like a maniac for most of the day.
Its now 6.20pm
The drinking starts. Not so much as a social drink over a meal, more like a stag do, instigated by an 80 odd year old. I am warned by mrs emsman that its his ploy to get me drunk so i cant think straight for the big game later. Ha, i could use a good drink, bring it on- i even omit the last painkiler from the days schedule to ensure clarity of thought.
A wonderful meal passes with about 6 glasses of wine, then the sloe gin arrives, and is duly dispatched. And the sloe sherry- which in fairness, was when things started going wrong. More stella, and its not going well, but hey, the gauntlet has been thrown down............
The reigning church Scrabble champion arrives. Jesus christ, its Godzilla in a frock. She is enormous. Hucking fuge. I am warned about language, decorum and fair play. She wheezes her way into a couple of chairs, and its game on.
But whats this? Joy of joys, its super scrabble. More letters, a bigger board, and alas, if my maths are correct, a longer game. We are also now playing indiviually, but our 'team' scores count together to determine the winner- me and mrs emsman vs her dad and godzilla, the girlfriend scoring/carrying beer- happy in the knowledge that a fellow christian will wipe the floor with us.
We start, and all is going well. Stella flowing freely, the old rogue with a demented grin- drink the drink, drink the drink.
By the time we reach 11pm, i am wasted. Gone. Unable. I excuse myself for a ciggy, and return feeling dizzy, hot and unwell. Seeing his chance, my nemesis produces a half pint glass of sloe sherry, as we have no more stella left. That means i must have drunk about 12 cans of the stuff. I dont normally drink lager.
We are nearing the end of the game- thankfully.
At this stage, godzilla (with the emphasis firmly on god) reaches into her bag, gets on the phone, and starts bleating (if that is the correct term) in Welsh.
Then, 3 minutes later, sticks down a 7 letter word. Its no wonder she is unbeatable, she is calling her husband, and getting him to work out possible words from the letters she has. Another round passes, and again, she is on the phone- again in welsh. Again, another 7 letter word. FFS. I call shenanigans to mrs emsman, who (judging by the severity of the blow to the ankle) quietly tells me not to be stupid. I have another ciggy. Something is afoot both with the game, and indeed my stomach. I can hold on till the end though.
It is indeed a close contest, not much in it at all. Godzilla is now constantly on the phone, i casually remark that i didnt realise giles brandreth spoke welsh, and am told not to be stupid, as she is a good christian lady. I manage the word Judas with a wry smile to myself, and a contemptuous scowl from godzilla.
Fine. Mrs emsman puts down a five letter word, only for godzilla to claim its not in the dictionary. I enquire how she is so sure, as its fairly obvious what is going on during the very long 'church business' phone call. She is sure, and a dictionary is bought in for us to check. Its at this point-give or take 10 seconds- that i look at the board, am slightly disturbed to notice it appears to have started rotating, and my mouth appears to be filling with saliva ever so quickly. I then blurt out-and, dear reader, i can only blame the alcohol- 'very f
king christian, you're a fking cheat'.
There is silence. A very long period of silence.
Its broken by mrs emsman, who attempts to do angry, apologetic and scorn all at the same time, all whilst clearly trying not to laugh too much- her father has tears rolling down his face- mission accomplished as far as he is concerned. Still, I cant un-say what has already been said, and its the end of the game, unless anyone can place the remaining tiles. Godzilla cant, so its down to me.
I slur a brief apology, atttempt to focus on the board, and enquire what the difference in scores is. About 15 points by all accounts- mrs emsman must be very bright, as i havent managed much through a fug of alcohol.
I can go. I can go. Go on then.
But im not sure i should. It is in the dictionary though.
Well, put it down then.
Ok, ok, fine.
eta: sorry mods. the word was four letters long, ends in unt and only found in the female form. And it wasnt aunt.
(naughty word removed. You've been here long enough to know!)
As the board is upside down, godzilla cant make it out. When she does, i look at her, see the look on her face, then look at mrs emsmans dad, then at mrs emsman, then laugh. Far more than i had right to. Everyone is laughing, except mrs godzilla. I excuse myself, to leave the room as i cant stop laughing.
I have a ciggy, continue laughing, am joined by mrs emsman, laugh some more, fall over laughing, and then laugh more. Pathetic, yes, but drunk, wholly inappropriate, and unable to stop.
As if to prove that god moves in peculiar ways, 40 seconds later, i am struck by a cramp, and 5 seconds after that, my bowels move in a peculiar way also.
I stop laughing.
I try to assess the damage. Its not good.
I do a more than passable impression of a saddle sore john wayne through the dining room, and upstairs to the bathroom, all the time watched by godzilla- it is the first and last time i see her smile.
At the top of the stairs i meet jnr, who is just out of bed going to the toilet, who asks why am i walking funny, is it part of the game? I agree. I Shower, and collapse asleep in the spare bed in his room.
It was a very quiet journey home yesterday.
On the beach on saturday in the sun (although not much heat) for emsman jnr to drive his landrover, dig holes, build sandcastles, and throw some stones into the sea (in a bid to raise the sea level-good lad) and (for those with a sufficiently good memory) no crab fishing. Perfect.
And it was perfect. Jnr had the time of his life, I got some much needed fresh air, and good for mrs emsman to catch up with her dad.
Now, her dad is a lovely bloke-83 and going strong. Problem is, he is something of a drinker- as in, arrive at 11am, would you like a drink? erm, yes a coffee would be lovely thanks. No. I meant a drink, im on white wine, would you like a stella.
Managed to avoid it for friday, until jnr was safely in bed, then enjoyed a few.
Now, his 'girlfriend' who is 78 is also a lovely, lovely person. A superb cook, a wonderful host, and great with jnr. She is also heavily religious, which may well be the root of the problems that followed.
Anyway, on friday night, as they are both getting on and dont watch much TV, they suggested a game of scrabble. Great. Still, not wanting to be the one to say no, we all duly sat down, and played scrabble. And it was OK. I actually quite enjoyed it. We played in pairs, and team emsman managed a convincing win against the old timers who thought they had it in the bag. Interested parties note the use of the word 'fen' across two double word scores, claiming the victory- narrow, but still a win.
Well, i thought that would be that, everyone was happy, and it was bed time.
Wrong.
By all accounts, its the first time they have lost a game in over 4 years.
And they were not happy.
Saturday morning arrived with an early wake up call from Jnr,so, up, showered, shaved (so as to appear human to our hosts) and gave jnr his breakfast, then back to the beach, after struggling to load the landrover in the back of the range rover on my own. Again, very, very happy times. A couple of hours of an empty beach, trying to teach the young hooligan how to do donuts. More sandcastles, more digging, more building dams and so on.
Back to the house, get both of us changed, as we are out for lunch.
Over lunch, I learn that due to the defeat the previous evening, mrs emsmans dads girlfriend has arranged for a friend to visit in the evening, to take us on at scrabble again- she is the local church champion no less, and the last person to beat them all those years ago. Im slightly pissed off due to not really wanting to play again. Needs must it would appear, as they are not going to let the small matter of defeat go easily.
So, lunch and a couple of pints and a glass of wine.
Play with jnr for a while, but he is early to bed due to a late night, and running around like a maniac for most of the day.
Its now 6.20pm
The drinking starts. Not so much as a social drink over a meal, more like a stag do, instigated by an 80 odd year old. I am warned by mrs emsman that its his ploy to get me drunk so i cant think straight for the big game later. Ha, i could use a good drink, bring it on- i even omit the last painkiler from the days schedule to ensure clarity of thought.
A wonderful meal passes with about 6 glasses of wine, then the sloe gin arrives, and is duly dispatched. And the sloe sherry- which in fairness, was when things started going wrong. More stella, and its not going well, but hey, the gauntlet has been thrown down............
The reigning church Scrabble champion arrives. Jesus christ, its Godzilla in a frock. She is enormous. Hucking fuge. I am warned about language, decorum and fair play. She wheezes her way into a couple of chairs, and its game on.
But whats this? Joy of joys, its super scrabble. More letters, a bigger board, and alas, if my maths are correct, a longer game. We are also now playing indiviually, but our 'team' scores count together to determine the winner- me and mrs emsman vs her dad and godzilla, the girlfriend scoring/carrying beer- happy in the knowledge that a fellow christian will wipe the floor with us.
We start, and all is going well. Stella flowing freely, the old rogue with a demented grin- drink the drink, drink the drink.
By the time we reach 11pm, i am wasted. Gone. Unable. I excuse myself for a ciggy, and return feeling dizzy, hot and unwell. Seeing his chance, my nemesis produces a half pint glass of sloe sherry, as we have no more stella left. That means i must have drunk about 12 cans of the stuff. I dont normally drink lager.
We are nearing the end of the game- thankfully.
At this stage, godzilla (with the emphasis firmly on god) reaches into her bag, gets on the phone, and starts bleating (if that is the correct term) in Welsh.
Then, 3 minutes later, sticks down a 7 letter word. Its no wonder she is unbeatable, she is calling her husband, and getting him to work out possible words from the letters she has. Another round passes, and again, she is on the phone- again in welsh. Again, another 7 letter word. FFS. I call shenanigans to mrs emsman, who (judging by the severity of the blow to the ankle) quietly tells me not to be stupid. I have another ciggy. Something is afoot both with the game, and indeed my stomach. I can hold on till the end though.
It is indeed a close contest, not much in it at all. Godzilla is now constantly on the phone, i casually remark that i didnt realise giles brandreth spoke welsh, and am told not to be stupid, as she is a good christian lady. I manage the word Judas with a wry smile to myself, and a contemptuous scowl from godzilla.
Fine. Mrs emsman puts down a five letter word, only for godzilla to claim its not in the dictionary. I enquire how she is so sure, as its fairly obvious what is going on during the very long 'church business' phone call. She is sure, and a dictionary is bought in for us to check. Its at this point-give or take 10 seconds- that i look at the board, am slightly disturbed to notice it appears to have started rotating, and my mouth appears to be filling with saliva ever so quickly. I then blurt out-and, dear reader, i can only blame the alcohol- 'very f
king christian, you're a fking cheat'.There is silence. A very long period of silence.
Its broken by mrs emsman, who attempts to do angry, apologetic and scorn all at the same time, all whilst clearly trying not to laugh too much- her father has tears rolling down his face- mission accomplished as far as he is concerned. Still, I cant un-say what has already been said, and its the end of the game, unless anyone can place the remaining tiles. Godzilla cant, so its down to me.
I slur a brief apology, atttempt to focus on the board, and enquire what the difference in scores is. About 15 points by all accounts- mrs emsman must be very bright, as i havent managed much through a fug of alcohol.
I can go. I can go. Go on then.
But im not sure i should. It is in the dictionary though.
Well, put it down then.
Ok, ok, fine.
eta: sorry mods. the word was four letters long, ends in unt and only found in the female form. And it wasnt aunt.
(naughty word removed. You've been here long enough to know!)
As the board is upside down, godzilla cant make it out. When she does, i look at her, see the look on her face, then look at mrs emsmans dad, then at mrs emsman, then laugh. Far more than i had right to. Everyone is laughing, except mrs godzilla. I excuse myself, to leave the room as i cant stop laughing.
I have a ciggy, continue laughing, am joined by mrs emsman, laugh some more, fall over laughing, and then laugh more. Pathetic, yes, but drunk, wholly inappropriate, and unable to stop.
As if to prove that god moves in peculiar ways, 40 seconds later, i am struck by a cramp, and 5 seconds after that, my bowels move in a peculiar way also.
I stop laughing.
I try to assess the damage. Its not good.
I do a more than passable impression of a saddle sore john wayne through the dining room, and upstairs to the bathroom, all the time watched by godzilla- it is the first and last time i see her smile.
At the top of the stairs i meet jnr, who is just out of bed going to the toilet, who asks why am i walking funny, is it part of the game? I agree. I Shower, and collapse asleep in the spare bed in his room.
It was a very quiet journey home yesterday.
Edited by TonyHetherington on Monday 22 February 13:11
Edited by Emsman on Monday 22 February 13:21
Editor?? ED????Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff