so last night, around 20 to midnight, Pip and I had both been to our respective huddle meetings and were just winding down about to go to bed, and the phone goes. it's not the kinda time we normally expect phone calls, so I screen it, and hear that it's my old mate from theological college, Paddy Malone who now lives in London. he asks me what i'm up to tomorrow and i say 'not much' as Friday is supposed to be my day off. i surmise from his question that he might be around the Oxford area so I ask him where he is - is he staying with mutual friends of ours who live around the corner from us? he says he's a bit nearer than that...i suspect that perhaps he is outside our front door wanting somewhere to stay for the night. he tells me i'm wrong and invites me to look out of our back window. as i do so i can just about make out a light at the bottom of our garden. and as i move out of our back door i also see that a tent has been pitched and some food is being cooked on a camping gas stove. Paddy and another friend - Simon Lockett - have canoed down the river from Simon's house in the village of Islip, a few miles north of Oxford, all the way to our back garden, hitched up the boat and set up camp at the bottom of our garden.
after much cracking up Pads, Simon, Pippa and I crack open a couple of bottles of wine and get a proper camp fire vibe going. Three hours, some fine wine, some very fine single malt, and some lovely cuban cigars, later i retire to bed thinking that that was possibly one of the oddest ends to a day i have ever experienced.
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