I have great news for you. This "global warming" thing is a huge hoax. This week we had temperatures around ZERO in Oslo. And SNOW. Ouch! I think snow should just stay up in the mountains. Where it belongs. Wore my new-ish brown boots* today. They are NO GOOD on snow. Too slippery. I almost did not make it up the hill where we live on my way home from the pub. And it was not because of me being in a drunken stupor. I promise. You know that I am a good girl.
This evening, I went to our local pub. According to honey-bunny, this pub is the sole reason why he chose to buy our apartment in the first place. The pub is called Highbury. Of course. It is the home turf of the Arsenal supporters in Oslo, including dear husband. Except on Thursday nights, when they have a pub quiz, and "normal" people are allowed on the premises. It is actually very convenient to have a pub this close to your house. It provides a great place to park my dear husband on Saturdays, while I do my shopping. When I come to pick him up, he is normally very happy. Unless - heaven forbid (I am even afraid to write it, as I do not want to jinx his team) - they LOOSE. Fortunately, they mostly win, so he is happy. And does not mind a bit that I have been shopping like Greece on speed for 2 x 45 minutes. Making me happy, too. I even have a credit limit at this pub. Without applying for it. Since they know my husband so well, I do not need to leave my credit card at the bar when ordering. As they say, "You are Mrs. H aren't you, we know where you live". Hm. Not sure if this is a good thing.
Anyway. Time for another pub quiz. This thing started quite a few years back, and it has remained very popular. It is a great way of gathering your friends on a weeknight without too much effort. Nothing needs to be prepared in advance, and people just turn up if they can. Very casual. Apart from providing the possibility to meet up, and drink wine (which I rarely do during the week), you get the possibility to prove how truly brilliant you and your friends are - compared to the other MORONS in the pub.
Being grown-up, you no longer have this cool thing with instant feedback and acknowledgement. As a kid, you delivered your homework to the teacher almost every day, and got immediate praise and golden sticker-stars-and-hearts-and-angels-and-whatnot when you did well. No such thing in the grown-up world. Well, except on the rare occasions that you do decide to change jobs. Then there is no limit to the amount of praise you get, particularly from your soon-to-be ex-employer. The sun shines out of your ass, and in the end it sounds like you actually ran the place all by yourself, and now they will go out of business because you leave. To avoid having to change employers too often (might look a bit suspicious on your CV), the pub quiz is the perfect evening entertainment to keep your feeling of self somewhat intact.
We normally do quite well. As long as we are in the top 10, we can leave the pub with our confidence still in place. Well. This week was sort of a downturn. 14th out of 22 teams is not really where we see ourselves. One team member volunteered to put a pocket atlas on his Christmas wish list this year. My contribution is generally to send out the quiz invitation, and fill in the answer sheet. Being an accountant (deep inside), I am very precise. Once in a blue moon I also provide an actual (correct) answer, but I see myself more as a kind of facilitator. This way I get to take part in the success when we do well, but it is never really my fault when we do not quite make it. I just happened to be there.
* http://dayinshoes.blogspot.com/2010/09/red-eye-blues.html
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