Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
It’s been a funny old week.
Concrete Pete returned to the fold after his leave back in Blighty and straight away organised a BBQ to cheer me up.
All went well throughout the planning, shopping and preparation stages and we were all looking forward to the feast until the BBQ, borrowed from QP, arrived and we discovered that the gas valve didn’t fit our gas bottle. Frustration quickly turned to panic as more and more guests arrived, all searching for a lamb chop or two. In the meantime Concrete had roared off in his 4x4 searching for a shop where he could buy another BBQ. Now, bearing in mind it is now about 7pm on a Friday night, this was quite an easy task and very soon he had a brand new BBQ sitting in his supermarket trolley but alas after wandering the aisles two or three times he couldn’t find any charcoal! All was not lost though as he bought three or four disposable BBQ’s and used the charcoal in those.
Bangalore Berty arrived early with the family plus two large hip flasks and had drained both before the first steaks came off the BBQ. Poor old QP who kindly lent us his BBQ, couldn’t make it as the babysitter went missing so he had to sit at home watching the TV and Ravishing Raj called to cry off saying that he “had to work”, but we all knew that he had already spent too many hours at the Ramada and it was an early night for him.
Only a week to go before my flying ban finishes and then I can mooch off to places a bit more interesting than here, and I have had invites from Stretch and the Duke and Duchess of Jasra to pop over to Paradise Island; Big Bev from Middlesborough, now residing in Muscat; and also from Mr Happy in Sharjah. Hard to make up our minds so it looks like we’ll visit them all.
Nearly that “time of the year” again when everyone starts to stock up the fridge with a few extra cold ones to see them over. I sat down with Concrete Pete the other evening trying to come up with a mathematical equation to correctly calculate the number of cases of beer we were going to need to buy and after an hour or so we came up with 40.
“Why 40?” Er Indoors asked.
“Not too sure,” we said, “just sounded like a nice round number.”
Da Doo Ron Ron is in no way connected to this paper, his comments are wholly unsolicited
