Entry for 3rd September, 2008

On Friday I was at a Sportsman's Dinner: an annual feature in my social calendar. It's held at a local bowling club to raise funds, and it's always a good evening with lots of drink and chat with pals you only see once a year. The food is not exactly haute cuisine mind you. As you arrive, you are greeted by a mysterious smell coming from steaming vats of overcooked meats. These are tended by women with fleshy arms, who stir the food with large sticks.
There are many high points of the meal - the non-specific meat; the roast potato with the taste and texture of a tennis ball; the strangely solid custard - but the absolute pinnacle of the evening is definitely the coffee. It is nice to round off the evening with instant coffee poured straight from a huge pot with the milk already poured in. Sludgy, grey and with the fragrance of a musty old pants drawer.
The Kenco man was nowhere to be seen.