So after a fairly active Saturday (Chrissy and I both putting in solid performances for the North London Lions) Sunday yet again was reduced to the arts of drinking a talking complete and utter shite with the very entertaining bunch from the 440 (a town house up the road sheltering currently 8 young visionaries). These Sundays seem to start in the early PM and initiate at the local watering hole of choice before, after a hearty meal and a pint or two we all converge back on the famous '440'. If the weather is good the rear garden is the place to take the purchased ales but if mother nature does not choose to grace us with vital vitamin 'd' we all disperse copious amounts of methane throughout the paint stripped lounge watching the quality....TV that Britain has on offer.
6pm-ish expires and not a long period of time unwinds before someone makes the very easy, executive decision to loudly suggest "CURRY"! The closest laptop is summoned and we surf (what is a very cool website where you can order any takeway to your door) the 'hungry house.co.uk for the one, the only 'indian chef' .... The most recent Sunday saw the us Finchley imposters go halves in the hottest curry available. Lets just say i had the stabbies and went a bit dizzy whilst Chrissy only complained of waking in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. 
Cant wait til next Sunday. MAH
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