On May 7th, 8th and 8th 1999, something wonderful happened. Andrew Baker drank less that 50 pints of beer. I know this as I witnessed it first hand, for we were both at Roehyde Reunion '99, a meeting of poor sods who through no choice of their own were forced to live together for a year, and decided not to kill each other (although some came close at times!).
I'm working from memory, so it's bound to be all rubbish...
This meeting was held at one of their old stomping grounds, St. Albans in Hertfordshire, a lovely little city which is adjacent to the shithole which is Hatfield (be careful of the trains).The Friday evening began with my journey to the hotel, via St. Albans station to pick up Andy, Paul and Anne. Once at the hotel, we were greeted by Jim (energetic as ever), John, Geoff and Alan. The night was young, and so were we (sort of), so we hit the city. First stop was at the Goose, followed by the Vintry, where we were told in no uncertain terms that Jims' trainers were unacceptable. We tried to argue that the whole of James is unacceptable, but they wouldn't listen. Undeterred, we carried on to the Tudor Tavern. After a jar or two there, it was onto the Fleur De Lys, and finally The Boot. Four pubs in one evening was not a bad start.
Saturday began far too late for breakfast (dammit), and so we needed food. After meeting up with Bruce and his other half, we proceded into Happy Hatfield, where we ended up at the towns new pub the Aviator(?), opposite British Aerospace. Some bright spark suggested that we park at the Galleria, and walk to the pub. I can't remember whose idea it was (possibly mine, who knows?), but it sucked big time, as on the way back to the car, it PISSED DOWN a LOT. After arriving at the Galleria, we followed the in our own footsteps as students, and continued the time honoured tradition of failing miserably to find anything decent within the shopping centre. We did, however, find the Aussie bar open, so the drinking fun continued.
Upon our return to St. Albans, we met up with Dee, Nick, Shawn, Dil, Shelley, Babs, Rachel, Hissy, Phil and Moz in the Vintry. Much drinking and chatting commenced, which eventually turned into the drinking and slurring. At 11pm we got kicked out (those bastards) and said our goodbyes to the non-hotel-staying guys & girls. The trip back to the hotel included the obligatory fast food (kebab / chicken / burger / roadkill), the shouting, and Nick being told by Herts Police to "put the cone down"...
Back at the hotel, we found to our immense relief that the bar was still open (hurrah!), and so the drinking commenced again. Gradually people drifted off to their beds (wimps), until the last die-hard stragglers got kicked out of the bar. In a show of gratitude, Johnners ensured that all of the hotels paintings were hung at the proper angle. What a helpful chap.
Sunday morning began with brekkie (we were up in time!) and a quick mooch around the lobby. After checking out, and popping into the High St. for some dosh, we headed off to the final part of the weekend - Sunday lunch at the Crooked Chimney. We were met there by the luvverly Clarie, and more beer was drunk, as well as photos taken.
Eventually, people began to make their weary, but (I hope) happy ways home. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to spend a weekend. Roll on the next one...
