Table for one sir?

Don't you just love these stories where you have to read the whole story to actually understand the title? Well this post is one of them. Alternative titles for this post included "Sleep Deprivation I believe..." and "That was the day my Dad became a proffesional wrestler!"

It all started at the beginning of last week. I dashed off (as I usually do) to the Peak District (not as usual) to do a hardcore rocklimbing instructor's course (Single Pitch Award [SPA]). I leaped around up there for three days, subsequently missing work on Wednesday night (oh what a shame...). However, Sainsbury's in their infinite wisdom, rearranged my hours so that I could still work (t'riffic, just bloomin' t'riffic).

Subsequently I had to work on Friday night instead of going to NTC (you don't know how much that p*ssed me off). When I finished work, I went to help a friend out with his mobile Disco (SAS Disco - either Stuart and Steve, or Steve and Stuart depending on who you believe). It was an upper sixth prom (attractive 17/18 year old females...) so it was all good. By the time we'd packed up, and I got home, it was 2am. Normally this would be fine, but...

I was up at 5.30am Saturday morning for the annual NTC car boot sale (we made £800ish by the way). The car boot always causes some "altercations", where drivers seem to loose any ability to handle a car the minute they get onto the grass. This year, my Dad seemed to turn into a pro wrestler. One of the idiot drivers (arrogant git) decided to dash out of a bay in reverse, and not bother looking for the traffic about to hit him. I stopped the traffic, while he backed out, and to thank me, the gentlemen polite said "If you don't get out of the F*cuking way, you're going to F*cuking get run over!"

I thanked him for his advice, but my Dad started walking towards the guy, shouting "If you don't F*cuking watch your mouth I'm going to deck you..." The driver started to drive off, but my dad started to run after him, and did a Karate kick into the side of his car. Ohh boy...

Dad left early, as he was taking Mum on a dirty weekend to see a Band Competition in Bath. I was out Saturday night with the Lions club (charity), and I returned at 11pm. When I got back, I found my 17 year old brother (Ian) and 12 of his friends with copius amounts of alcohol. They seemed quiet enough, and I left them to it, as I wasn't feeling too brilliant. How wrong I was....

The group were shouting, and running around, apparently playing all manner of games under the sun. Our neighbours have the patients of saints. When I woke up Sunday morning, I found the house resembled a bomb site. God only knows what they got up, but there was a traffic sign, egg shells, moved items of furniture etc. I left them to it (mostly asleep) at 9, when I took some NTC kids Kayaking for the day. Well they were asleep until one of my cadets rang the door bell. DING DONG!!! ha ha.

Anyways, how does the title fit into this? There was no food at home (Mum was away, so the normal shop hadn't been done), and I couldn't get to the shops, as I was Kayaking all day. I did ask my brother what he wanted to do for food, and he said that we should sort each other out. (The scumbag cooked Bolognaise for all his friends). So this is where you find me. A table for one in the Littlehampton Little Chef eating Spicy Chiken Platter, and a Jubilee Pancake (not at the same time).

What an anti-climax. Bet you wish you hadn't bothered now....