The Case Of The Lost Glasses.

This actually happened a while back but I will re-tell it here.

As usual last Friday was a miasma of drunkenness.

Finished work at 1630hrs, wandered down the agency to hand in my time sheet and drink their wine. (memories of a Jimi Hendrix song come into my head at that last sentence). An hour later I am trotting across town a little worse for ware due to red wine.

The major problem is that I have to pass the pub on the way home. Actually the major problems is I don't pass the pub on the way home. So about 2000hrs I decide I should at least go and put my briefcase and tie somewhere that they wont get beer dripped on them (mostly by myself that is).

Thirty seconds later I re-enter the pub, clean tee-shirt and a little more money better off.

Well the band are excellent. I'm told I led a small personal "mosh pit" in the pub, to the landlords displeasure. Well much leaping about and head banging later I eventually run out of steam and go home, weary but happy.

The next morning is heralded with the usual Saturday morning hangover and a particularly sore neck (too much head banging). Well I manage to find my trousers and my shoes, and the forensic evidence in the kitchen suggests that I may have cooked something to eat when I got in.

As is my way I get out of bed around 0900hrs to migrate down to the lounge and fall asleep in front of Dragon Boosters or some thing. Now as necessity would have it I need my glasses to see the telly (whilst my eyes are open).

Here in lies the problem. I cannot find them anywhere. All the usual (and some pretty unusual) places are searched to no avail. Even the fridge has no comfort for me.

Concluding that I must of left them down the pub I resolve to check later and break out the second pair (kept for emergencies such as this).

Those of you who wear glasses will of course appreciate the mild discomfort of wearing a pair of glasses that are not your regular pair.

As part of my weekend domestic tasks I set off to get some milk. On the way I resolve to pop into the pub to check if the offending articles have been handed in. Well one thing leads to another,(mostly one pint leads to another), and it becomes necessary to purchase breakfast in the pub (just to settle my stomach).

Well about 2000hrs (again) I need some more money (not having gained any clue as to the whereabouts of the glasses yet). I head off home and return better off fiscally (in the sense I have more money in my pocket not so much in the bank).

So Sunday is greeted with the traditional Sunday hangover (much distinct from the Saturday morning variety), and yet again I ransack the house trying to find these dammed glasses.

Well Pete and the "Godson From Hell" turn up about 1600hrs as usual, neither of them are of any use. The godson doing his best Colombo "do you think they are upstairs or downstairs?"

"To be honest if I knew that I wouldn't need to find them!"

A fine afternoon is had by all culminating in the now mandatory kebab dinner, and they leave me in the house to sulk about the spectacles.

Monday morning comes around. I do the usual somnambulant dance of breakfast, bath and get dressed (sometimes in that order, sometimes not), sling on the MP3 player and head for the door. For no apparent reason as I reach for the door handle I look right and there are the damn glasses.

All's well that ends well.