Friday night booziness

My Friday nights usually involve a beer with the lads after work and then quickly home to take the Missus out for dinner. Last Friday night was supposed to be no different, but it saw me getting pretty smashed at home by myself before going to dinner. A sad thing I know, but I dealt with it.
The story starts with me salivating at my desk at 4.30pm hanging to get down to the pub for some more of the Tetley's Dark Mild which I had sampled over lunch time. I had a slight problem though - the office had cleared out and I would have to drink alone. Usually not a problem as I know several regulars at a few of the pubs around the office, but since having a borderline argument with one such twat over my lunchtime pint I retreated home collecting a few bottles from Waitrose on the way. Once home, I contacted the Missus to see how long she will be whilst I poured myself a pint of St Peter's IPA.
"I am playing winglady for Tracy*" was the reply from the other end of my mobile, "she has met a really hot guy and I'm facilitating. I am having one more drink."
Fair enough I thought, Tracy is a nice enough 30 something spinster who deserves to be happy too. So I booted up my PC and happily watched episode 6 of "Oz and James" on BBC iPlayer. I had to pause my viewing twice; once to visit the dunny, the second time to get another beer. It seemed as good a time as any to crack the bottle of Cooper's Vintage Ale 2007 reserve that I picked up in Whole Foods a couple of weeks ago. This beer was good. Actually very good, and it was nice to taste a beer brewed with Australian water. It's the terroir I tell myself while absorbing Oz Clark's attempts to intellectualize beer while James May tries to pass whitty criticisms. The iplayer viewing ends and it is time for another beer. They were going down rather easy. First the 5.5% IPA followed by the 7.5% Australian strong ale - a Fuller's ESB was exactly what I needed. There was nothing interesting on the TV so I watched the second episode of "Ross Kemp: Return to Afghanistan." I check my watch, still no sign of the missus. It's pushing 8.30 now so I give her a call - she is on the tube will be home in 20 minutes. Great I scheme, rubbing my hands together like an evil villain - plenty of time to drink that bottle of Budvar dark I have stashed in the vegetable crisper.
By the time the missus arrived home I was starting to feel a little tipsy, and she was not in much better condition. I decided a curry would be the cure, so we trotted out to my favourite London restaurant: "The Raj of India" - home of the best Kingfisher this side of Favisham. By the time we left the restaurant I was pretty pissed, but boy did I have fun even if I was drinking alone for most of the evening. I'll let you know if Tracy ended up pulling when more info comes to hand - it is probably more interesting than my Friday night was, but I thought I would share anyway.

* Name changed to protect the innocent!