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People have accused me, in my old age, of failing to party as hard as I used to. Handily, I have countered that accusation with APLOMB over the past two days. Your humble webmaster is currently bearly able to hear, think or string a sentence together after two nights of debauched antics. Friday night, originally earmarked by Michelle and I for a quiet cinema visit, turned into a semi-drunken night in Cranleigh with Shunta and Jac, singing karaoke (including the ever-present American Pie – the 9 minute version), and arriving home with part of a fence. It only got worse on Saturday, when Alex MacHorton’s birthday provided a good excuse for a boogie. Kingston’s McCluskys bar was blessed with our presence – a bar which to Jac and I’s amusement greets everyone with a sign: “Warning: Fun”. Duly warned, we entered. Becki and Michelle attracted the usual perverted “are they twins” comments, while Jac and I danced like buffoons, perfected some splendid new dancing techniques – the “Typewriter”, the “Tennis Match” and the “Lawnmower” to name a few. Only when we came out did we release that we were all pleasantly deaf, but still a perfectly splendid night all round. And it’s Jac’s birthday bash next weekend – god help me.