We were teamed up with a couple of sweet guys from Graeme's work to make a team of 6. Two sweet guys who knew how to bowl I should add. I came a mildly disappointing 4th in the first game, but lead the 2nd until Harrold got his competitive testosterone thing on and wiped me in the last frame. Still, 2nd isn't too shabby for an infrequent and moderately skilled bowler.
We repaired to the pub next door afterwards, where James and I played our usual game of summing up our versions of the life stories of the other patrons. Only this time we turned our
Graeme and James stopped off at one of the gay pubs on the way home, but my enforced sobriety and I headed home in the freezing wintery night, and I was home by about 11. So, a fun night. I'm determined to do a bit more bowling, because it was really good fun. Plus, the lame DJ at the bowling alley played some mad 80s/90s pop and kept mispronouncing the names of the artistes (ie: Rick Ashley anyone?).
And that in and of itself is rare entertainment if you ask me.
[Don't just take my word for it, check out James's take on the evening.]