A tale of power and corruption
The new rules on gatherings were something of anti-climax for us - apart from our two cautious huggers at least. With the rule of 6 applying indoors, we were still outdoors last night. I chased the rain and squalls to arrive at the Spiritual Home slightly early, only to find the Famous Witham Peloton already settled and making their sampling choices. Huggy, Hotblack, the Hustler, Herr Bilderberg and I were soon joined by Tomsk, the Child Catcher, Despeuch, Marshall Mathers, ElliottthJJJ and Oaky. When Huggy managed to procure what looked suspiciously like a throne for the end of our picnic table, I assumed Loopy was on her way - in fact she was but was soon diverted becauase ElliotttthJJJJ had managed to bring a light bracket but no light so Loopy was tasked with obtaining a spare before being allowed to take her throne and the waiting bowl of chips. If you think that is touching, you should have seen the hug that Fandango and Herr B had when Fandango finally made his appearance. It was a real outpouring of pent up frustration, brewed over many months apart.
You think you know people but they constantly surprise you; sometimes in a good way but not always. Last night had surprises right across the spectrum. Who would have thought that beneath his jolly and slighly buffoonish persona that OD was actually one of the shadowy network of bankers/lizard people/masons/illuminati/aliens/people from the future/[insert your own theory here] who run the world's economy and generally control our lives. I think we all suspected it was an act - nobody could be that jolly and buffoonish surely - but I don't think we ever thought he was funding the government. Meanwhile Hotblack's quiet tact has finally been recognised and he is to be a special envoy in the undiplomatic corps. Ambassador Desiato (as he now insists on being called) will use his special talents to bring harmony and order where there is disharmony and chaos - at least I think it was that way round. The last surprise was a bit more unwelcome but I need to set the scene a bit. We all know now that experts are overrated but sometimes they can come in useful (not however when they take the executive decision to order the lower ABV offering that we have all had before as a starter instead of the ale that is about to run out, but other times). Huggy is the expert adviser to the Quaffers' Choice Committee but is never allowed to opine on the samples, lest he fog our own clarity of judgement. It is also the case that only one elder can sit on the QCC and that elder is currently Oaky. None of that stopped Tomsk from an underhand attempt to usurp Oaky and take his place on the QCC. Tomsk's first gambit was to make an early order of the ale that ran out which was strategically sound and positively Machiavellian in its bold execution. His next move was to start venturing opinions on the ale that ran out and others; opinions that sounded well-founded and engaging. In all his scheming and dreaming he had reckoned without our consultant expert though. "Remind me", Huggy asked innocently "what did you think of the last ale ?". "Nutty on the palate with afternotes of damson plum" said Tomsk confidently. It unwound quickly from there. With the help of a number of flip charts, an overhead projector and through the medium of mime, Huggy was able to prove not only that the ale was neither nutty nor indeed plummy but also that Tomsk was doing nothing more than randomly reading from a list of taster notes from one of Huggy's many entertaining self-penned ale guides. With the charlatan unmasked, we were able to proceed with the serious busness of judging.
First up was Proper Job by St Austell, next was Grain's Prickley Pig, followed by Kent's Quiet American and the final entry should have been Bearly Available by the Rupert Bear Brewery but Tomsk had drunk it all. The night was saved when Bearly Here was replaced by our usual dessert; Oscar Wilde Mild. With a full QCC and the office junior present, we were pleased to announce Prickley Pig as the Quaffer's Choice. I have also been asked to make it clear that I will be commencing a period of reflection on my behaviour as well as undertaking a number of courses on how to deal with junior staff in the workplace in 2021, not 1921 like you seem to think it is you unfeeling control freak. Apparently, it is no longer acceptable to tell the office junior that we do not need his opinion because we are fully quorate tonight. What you should do is reassure him that he is valued and that his opinion is occasionally valued and help nurture his self-confidence in what can be a daunting environment for somebody who is incapable of even looking after his own hair. Thank you to the Hustler for having the courage to stand up for what is right, the whistleblower's role is never comfortable.
The Compasses has a comfortable beer tent at the scout fete vibe going on at the moment which is lovely but not so much when it remains unseasonably cold and all you have are placebo heaters hanging off the roof. It was nice to be able to gather properly and move between tables though. How we long to be back inside.
The long ride home gave Fandango and me another opportunity to practice our bike handling display. We are not delusional enough to expect ever to reach the close formation beauty of the Famous Witham Peloton but we do want to put on some sort of show. It didn't go well. Our signature slowing down to talk nonsense move just doesn't translate to the little ramp out of Terling and a front wheel/kerb interface situation. Oaky will have reported back that the FWP has nothing to fear. Fortunately he was so far ahead I am not sure he saw the full sorry incident. Once Oaky had zoomed off to Oaky Towers, Fandango and I were alone with three quarters of our journey ahead of us and the combined navigation skills of a pair of squirrels. It was so cold (3.5 degrees on the Garmin) that we managed to stay alert and not miss a single turn (I can't speak for Fandango after he left me but his strava track looked ok). A combination of Fandango's notoriously weak bladder and the fact that he was probably lost most of the time also meant that I was able to keep up with him. It was a beautiful clear night with a hint of a tailwind and whilst I was never going to beat the streetlights, I did manage to reach my offshore lair before 2am.
