"Where've you been?"

I was just about to write an email to Victoria, on Saturday, when it occured to me that it would be nice to speak to her instead. it was 4pm and I figured it should be 8am in Alaska so I dialled and got a very sleepy voice saying "Hello??? Wha? Is it the middle of the night? Is everything OK? Where've you been?"
I'd miscalculated, she's 9 hours behind me.
I chuckled later, at the "Where've you been?"
It put me in mind of parent waiting at the door for miscreant teenager's return, pointing with jabbing motions at watch on wrist :) I reckon Tora's always been older (and wiser) than I!
So, where have I been?
Long time, week ago now, I went with Ian to the Sommeliers' evening. Haven't actually got the details of that in front of me at this moment, but from memory there were about 50 people in an old hall with a huge fire in the middle (I mean in the middle of a side wall, of course), the warmth from which did not, unfortunately, reach to the outer edges of the room nor, more particularly to the ends of the two tables meeting in a v shape, at one of which I was sitting, near an outer door which wouldn't shut properly! The candles on the table up our end of the room burned like fury with the wind and were gone when the rest were only half was burned!
However, as the evening and consumption of wine and food progressed, one worried less and less about the cold!
"French dishes with wines from the Rhone Valley, (loosely and with exceptions) and/or where the food dishes originate from North Africa or Lincolnshire."
There were 7 wines and I'm not even going to begin to name them all or be oenophilic about it -- 3 dark reds, one of which was a surprise one and Australian (must have been a French emigree?), 1 rose, 1 white to go with Kir and 1 white fizzy one that tasted like Asti, but wasn't. The dishes we had to accompany were a selection of olives and ditto saucissons. Anchovy croissant ... very nice!, crepes with mushrooms and smoked haddock and sole, skewered rosemary marinaded chicken with aioli dip, chuchuka (sorta ratty toowee) in filo pastry cups, venison on a little slice of bread fried in olive oil - wouldda been much quicker to write "sur tartine" but who (apart from me) sits with a french dicko by their side??? Oh yes, with a delish creamed horseradish.
I haven't finished yet, come back .... Pork sausages (must have been the Lincs element) in Puy lentils and then rabbit in a mustard sauce, finishing with a selection of 3 cheeses.
I wuz stuffed ... and not a little woozy!
I fear it was a little raucous on our table, particularly down the end where I was sitting. Can't think why :)
Think I've missed out on mentioning such fun stuff that I haven't done in years, such as a walk along the prom (prom prom where the big band plays, tiddly om pom pom - cept they didn't, I just added that), down to Willy's bar for a micro-brewery beer and a spot of lunch before taking in a matinee of The Constant Gardener with Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weiss.
Sitting in Willy's I saw a guy approaching who was obviously, to me, out of his head. I'm not such a sage that I could tell what on, but I reckoned that someone who stops and looks at nothing at all and talks to himself is probably away with the pixies. Oh he did trip as he walked in the bar, too.
He was served.
Shortly after which it became noticeable that someone behind us was talking rather loudly. When he started swearing he was given his money back and ejected.
I don't think he helped his case by the abusive language he used to the bar maid doing the ejecting, nor to a potential return when he shouted, from across the road: "Hey, that's my fucking favourite bar, you bitch."
The film was a good one but don't go if you want a laugh.
Yesterday Ian and I went for a bike ride into Grimsby. I think we did 14km, which is about 4 times the length of any journey I've ridden on 'my noo bike' so far in Louth and I got to test the 'lady seat'.
Ian's 6' 2" tall which seems to be all legs and where he would have preferred me to be in front to keep an eye on me, he had to lead since I didn't know where the hell we were going. So I had the opportunity to see that my legs were peddalling twice as face as his. He was keeping on eye on me though, in a mirror on his handle bars. At one point the sun was shining directly in the mirror and he lost me and stopped.
Just as well cos I'd been stopped at a traffic light to let a cyclist cycle over a crossing. Can they do that??? I tried going up and down the gears but despite the service they get a bit noisy at times and even if it's easier to pedal I get fed up of the noise it makes in that mode!
We cycled along the river Freshney for a while and I noted some houses for sale there, which would be quite a nice aspect but the yards at the back were tiny and very definitely not conducive to any summertime sunbathing. Sigh, I suppose you have to sacrifice something for cheap housing?
Oh, I have to get a photograph taken today for tomorrow's interview, for the 'identification process', else i can't have the interview. Mustn't forget.
Well, that's tomorrow so let's see how it goes?
Oh, the lady's seat ... I still got numb 'bits' and fidgeted and fidgeted for the last 20 mins or so of the ride, wondering which it I could sit on that didn't ache. Ian's moved the sit back and inch or so now so I'll test that out. Apparently it IS gel, as well as specially shaped for lady's bits so the next step, I suppose, is to tie a cushion to the seat???