The original plan for the Five Seven Christmas do was to take a light stroll around Dunham Massey, then head to the pub. Bad weather and twisted limbs saw the plan modified: a hog roast at Oddest.
Chubb, Steve, Woody, Max, Zoe and I – a great mix, and a good size for a single conversation. After all of the ballyhoo about where we were going to go, it was odd that Ollie and Wallis weren’t there; they’d been at each other’s throats over email about the arrangements, and then neither surfaced. So it goes, I guess.
We caught up. Max is back from London, and he’s qualified as a surveyor. He’s in the market for a move to Chorlton, which is an interesting step considering that he’s been cohabiting with Wallis since I’ve known them. A good sign, I’d say, for both of them. Independent friendship groups are good for a couple.
We laughed. I haven’t laughed as much for a very long time. My stomach hurt because we laughed so much. My face hurt because of the jollity. Marvellous stuff.
“Which one,” asked Woody, “did you send flowers to?” I pointed Nic out to him. He grinned at me. I grinned too.