I hate 24 hour Pub opening and old age.
Bugger, Bugger, Bugger - In olden days I used to stay down the pub until whenever - I even remember one day having our pool game disturbed by someone taking their dog for a walk at 7:00 am. Now we are allowed to stay longer I'm not up to it. Mr FM kindly dragged me out of the warm embrace of the IPA just now and I faced the final humiliation.
Many years ago I went to drive away from the Pub having secreted a young lovely in the front seat of the Pickup earlier; the windscreen was frozen over so our tryst was still secret, but Big Don as he passed offered to solve that problem. He unzipped and offered his legendary trouser snake to the frosty air and proceeded to clear the frozen ice off. Young Miss X sitting hidden in the passenger seat was given a close up view of the old Jap eye; only sixteen and I was breaking her in gently, so Big Don was surprised to learn she was in the truck when a stifled scream went up. Embarrassment all round.
So tonight I get back to the car which has a frozen over in the time it takes to sink a gallon of Wadworth's best; Ah-ha I think, time to clear the windscreen. Old age; the prostate pressure is such all I can manage is a dribble across the wipers. So the drive home was akin to peering through the drivers slit of a Sherman Tank on a foggy day, but the track is wide and there is only one pole in the middle of it - should be OK.
Oh to be young again, youth is wasted on them...
Update - yes Big Don, Miss X and myself were all in the pub last night, still friends 25 years later.