Last night, I joined Simon and his friend Tim for a post-Christmas Day drink. We went to The Boathouse, which was virtually deserted apart from the barman and his mate.
Having started their drinking hours before me in town, Simon and Tim entered into a ferocious football debate about what constitutes a ‘great’ football manager. It turns our Rafa Benitez is one (but only for his work at Valencia). José Mourinho is not (despite various league titles and a Champions League winner’s medal) and Arsène Wenger is not great, however is better than Rafa, who is great…
Confused? I certainly was, but took amusement from watching some slightly intoxicated football fans argue. However, being the peacemaker I am, I managed to diffuse to situation and get everyone to agree that, should he win the World Cup, Fabio Capello is the greatest living manager – better than Rafa, José, Arsène and the bloke who manages Accrington Stanley.
Due to their earlier alcohol intake, the two glasses of wine my fellow drinkers consumed was enough for them to call time on the pub; stumbling home to the warmth of their beds. Having not drank earlier, I was slightly disappointed at only being permitted two pints of beer; although awaking this morning, feeling as fresh as a newly bloomed daisy was nice.
The walk home seemed to take forever, mainly as Tim found the conditions freezing cold. Despite having ice all over the pavement, I surprisingly didn’t suffer the same reaction to the subzero temperatures and was able to tolerate the winters night. I guess it proves alcohol does lower your blood temperature. Either that or the extra layers I was wearing or Christmas weight I may have gained help to insulate me from the elements.
A photo from the walk home (yes, really)
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