If you have "one for the road", I always thought it meant a drink before you hit the road to go home.However, if you're an Aussie, the term is much more literal: one for the road is to actually take a drink in the car with you.
So, I found myself heading out with him indoors and two friends, knocking back champagne on the way to the pub.
It was perhaps a scenario more apt for a limo rather than a Ford Focus.
As the bubbles started taking effect, the indecision about where we were going also kicked in. Thus, it seemed quite sensible when someone suggested we turn left, then right, a total of 10 times, where upon we would go into the next pub we saw after such frenetic corner taking.
So, we found ourselves in The Woolpack. No, not the Yorkshire one, although it would have been fun to get mixed up in all that rural drama, rather the one in Burgess Hill.
We then set about given each other challenges, which I won't bore you with.
The next pub was decided by going left, left, left, right, left. To which we ended up, quite strangely, outside The Windmill.
A game of darts, banter with the publican, or republican according to the Aussie, who announced to his drinkers that if you turn left, left, left, right, left from The Woolpack, you get to The Windmill. I hope we were right.
A Friday night to remember, and thankfully, because of this blog, I'll remember more than I would have.
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