Guilty as charged, M'lud...
The usual score is people turn up at mine, drink coffee and natter until someone (usually me) points out that if we don't get a move on we will miss food at the pub.
Cycling ensues, followed by beer and chips and other food.
At some point in the evening people decide they had better set off home (usually about 10:30 as that is when the last train to York runs so it provides and nice fixed point to aim for).
This weeks is a toss up at the moment between Fishfinger butties or totally new pub to us, with a convoluted route to get there (and only a short blast to get back home)