unscrabbled

After a lazy morning of breakfast along the Thames and a skim of the weekend papers, Fox and I headed to the old faithful, Jolly Gardener, to continue our battle for ultimate Scrabble victory. Our attempts to outwit each other only exaggerates our individual competitive streaks. By the fifth word in, it was clear that I was left in the dust of Fox's tracks, well on my way to Sunday afternoon word-game defeat - a harsh blow to my journalistic ambitions.

However, an afternoon in the pub, playing boardgames with your own special person, watching the rain fall outside, is so stereotypically London...and so great. I opted out of Strawberry beer, deciding that alcohol is my foe at the best of times, nevermind at midday. The atmosphere and the smell of roast were rather comforting and as I experience at the oddest times, I was overcome by that content, "I'm home" feeling. Today it didn't matter if I won or lost but just wait until next time Mr Fox. WA-HA-ha...