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It's a hole in one!
Yesterday was a very annoying day and, just to round it off to perfection, we had a late night phone call from a couple of friends asking if we fancied resurrecting our Quiz Team quartet with them. The short and honest answer is no. Unfortunately, they're difficult to argue with because logic has little meaning for them:
Me: "I thought you said 'Never, ever again as long as we live' after that night at the village hall?"
Him: "Yes, but time's passed and we were remembering the good times last night, and all the laughs we had."
Me: "Remind me of some of those laughs? Aren't we the team who always came fourth, there was only ever three prizes, and you two nearly had to go for marriage guidance counselling after the last one?"
Him: "Yes, but it was funny when you won the two top prizes in the raffle in the one at the police club, they asked you to pick the next ticket and you drew yourself out again!"
Me: "Oh, yes, that one. Wasn't that the one where your wife had an argument with the quiz master over the answer to a question? Along with me appearing to have fixed the raffle in a room full of irate policemen. I really enjoyed that."
Him: "And that last quiz was ever so funny, especially when you couldn't remember which number Privet Drive Harry Potter lived at!"
Me: "I couldn't think above the sound of parents ringing their kids on mobiles to ask. Besides, wasn't it you who attempted to lynch the vicar for allowing everyone to cheat, and called him a very rude name?"
Him: "Yes, but he's left now so we've got a new one who doesn't know us..."
Apparently we've got a couple of weeks to think of ways to get out of this, and I'm currently favouring a contagious illness. It's not that they're not fun, in the way that an evening of extreme pressure where you sweat like mad in case you can't answer your specialist subject is (mine are films, books, history, sport, TV, and what number Harry Potter lives at), but our friends are very clever AND very competitive. It's a deadly combination. Plus we always come fourth.
Then there's the golf. Yes, it's Ryder Cup time, and as my best mate's ex-husband is a golf fanatic, and we all got dragged round a few golf tournaments at one time we watch it. (They didn't split up because of the golf obsession, but I don't think it helped as he didn't notice a few things. Like her boyfriend). And we keep getting excited, hysterical phone calls from him. "Did you see the three iron Westwood just played?! Did you see the fade from left to right?! What a drive by Montgomery as well!"
Meanwhile, I've worked out it's all down to the clothes. Who dresses this lot? (And I'd like to dress Paul Casey;)) It's quite obvious Tiger Woods can't play in green or blue so why put him in it? (Though as a Brit, I should be grateful). They've put our lot in stripes, which is hard on the eyes, but when it rains it's a master-stroke as they're a complete blur, which must really confuse the poor Americans when they stand by the hole. Yesterday, they had David Tennant-like little brown jumpers, so it was obvious from the moment they appeared that they were going to win. The result of the singles tomorrow really hinges on who has the best fashion sense. ;)
And in amongst all this, I'm trying to write. So get ready for the first ever R/T golf fic, although I do fancy doing The Order Quiz Night... ;)
Me: "I thought you said 'Never, ever again as long as we live' after that night at the village hall?"
Him: "Yes, but time's passed and we were remembering the good times last night, and all the laughs we had."
Me: "Remind me of some of those laughs? Aren't we the team who always came fourth, there was only ever three prizes, and you two nearly had to go for marriage guidance counselling after the last one?"
Him: "Yes, but it was funny when you won the two top prizes in the raffle in the one at the police club, they asked you to pick the next ticket and you drew yourself out again!"
Me: "Oh, yes, that one. Wasn't that the one where your wife had an argument with the quiz master over the answer to a question? Along with me appearing to have fixed the raffle in a room full of irate policemen. I really enjoyed that."
Him: "And that last quiz was ever so funny, especially when you couldn't remember which number Privet Drive Harry Potter lived at!"
Me: "I couldn't think above the sound of parents ringing their kids on mobiles to ask. Besides, wasn't it you who attempted to lynch the vicar for allowing everyone to cheat, and called him a very rude name?"
Him: "Yes, but he's left now so we've got a new one who doesn't know us..."
Apparently we've got a couple of weeks to think of ways to get out of this, and I'm currently favouring a contagious illness. It's not that they're not fun, in the way that an evening of extreme pressure where you sweat like mad in case you can't answer your specialist subject is (mine are films, books, history, sport, TV, and what number Harry Potter lives at), but our friends are very clever AND very competitive. It's a deadly combination. Plus we always come fourth.
Then there's the golf. Yes, it's Ryder Cup time, and as my best mate's ex-husband is a golf fanatic, and we all got dragged round a few golf tournaments at one time we watch it. (They didn't split up because of the golf obsession, but I don't think it helped as he didn't notice a few things. Like her boyfriend). And we keep getting excited, hysterical phone calls from him. "Did you see the three iron Westwood just played?! Did you see the fade from left to right?! What a drive by Montgomery as well!"
Meanwhile, I've worked out it's all down to the clothes. Who dresses this lot? (And I'd like to dress Paul Casey;)) It's quite obvious Tiger Woods can't play in green or blue so why put him in it? (Though as a Brit, I should be grateful). They've put our lot in stripes, which is hard on the eyes, but when it rains it's a master-stroke as they're a complete blur, which must really confuse the poor Americans when they stand by the hole. Yesterday, they had David Tennant-like little brown jumpers, so it was obvious from the moment they appeared that they were going to win. The result of the singles tomorrow really hinges on who has the best fashion sense. ;)
And in amongst all this, I'm trying to write. So get ready for the first ever R/T golf fic, although I do fancy doing The Order Quiz Night... ;)
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I find making up questions of any kind really hard - a couple of years in a row I compiled a crossword for something at work, and it used to take me days to come up with two dozen clues, regardless of the fact that it was themed around my specialist subject. In fact, I think that made it harder, because as well as coming up with the approprate questions, I was second guessing whether they were too easy or not.
Obviously if you want any 'which ingredients turn wheat-free pastry into a glue-like substance that sticks to everything' questions, I'm your girl ;).
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I'm thinking it might be amusing if he just refuses point blank to explain why he's called his team that, and Sirius is much more interested in speculating about this than answering any questions for his side...
In fact, I think that made it harder, because as well as coming up with the approprate questions, I was second guessing whether they were too easy or not.
I think it's starting with the answers that's the problem for me, and working backwards to the question while, yes, second guessing if this is too obvious, ludicrous or Jamie Oliver is reading and having a fit. Perhaps I should just watch QI this week and nick their questions because, again, possibly only you, me and Alan Davies will know.
Obviously if you want any 'which ingredients turn wheat-free pastry into a glue-like substance that sticks to everything' questions, I'm your girl ;)
Don't think I haven't considered a food intolerance round, which would be much simpler, and nobody would be able to tell me I'm wrong. Plus Tonks revealing she is the only dairy-free Metamorphmagus in existance, could be a great romantic moment for her and our wheat-free werewolf. ;)
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Plus Tonks revealing she is the only dairy-free Metamorphmagus in existance, could be a great romantic moment for her and our wheat-free werewolf.
Shame they won't get a chance to eat that stilton sandwich in Up All Night. Not the way to get a first date off to a great start, Remus accidentally feeding her something she's intolerant to, her not wanting to say anything and spending the rest of the night in the lav.