"That'll be £81 exactly, please."
The Coach and Horses, Wellingborough, has been done up since I last visited (c.1992 with my dad, probably). I met up with the best of the lads from school for a steak lunch, a few beers and a catch up. We've spread out since school - with Whitehouse and Drakey in London, Ben and Lewis in Northamptonshire and James and I in the North-West - so these occasions are rare, and rightly savoured. We all had T-Bone steaks, all medium-rare.
NB: This photo is temporary, until James uploads the actual picture of our meals.
James crashed his car ten miles from Wellingborough, having driven 140 miles from Chester. He persuaded the breakdown driver to drop him off near the pub before pulling his crashed car back to Ellesmere Port. Drakey is finally close to writing up his PhD. Ben's printing company don't print Razzle Readers' Wives: Naughty Forties any more. Lewis is pissed off about being unemployed, to the extent that he was questioning the worth of his university education. Whitehouse has broken up with Rachel, but didn't much want to talk about it.
We went back to Irchester to stay with Lewis' parents. His mum was being, frankly, a bit of a dick. Yes, he was drunk. Yes, her house is lovely. No, of course she didn't want to clean up his vomit. But there was no need to be so rude. Poor lad.