The incorrigible SocT

Today's SocT meeting was the annual event where Golfimbol is played; I know little of its origins or where it arises in the Tolkien canon, but it has been enthusiastically played in Oxford for many years now, if only once a year. However, rain had been heavy in Oxford and some of us didn't like the idea of skidding around on a soaked Angel and Greyhound Meadow. So, narahttbbs, Zephyr and I retired to Shona's room, where we ate Cambodian takeaway and discussed schools, life, the universe and everything, before shanith arrived; soon after, as the hours had rushed on at great speed, I departed to reclaim my car and drive back to Woodstock.

My car was behind the Angel and Greyhound pub, by the meadow; as I passed the back of the pub I heard familiar voices, and it turned out that the remainder of the Golfimbollers were in the pub courtyard, playing Trivial Pursuit. I was invited to join them but declined through tiredness; as George Galloway might have said, I salute their indefatigability. They deserve this accolade more than Saddam Hussein! (And for me to be even thinking of this comparison shows you how late it is...)