Olden Glove

Rolled back the years tonight and went for a chuckabout with my mate Neil, from whom I stole the "Olden Glove" reference.

Neil still plays Slow Pitch Softball competively but I gave up my dreams of being Britain's answer to Derek Jeter many years ago.

We went and threw a baseball around in a park near Primrose Hill until the risks to other park users became too great! I was also being eaten alive by midges that were leaving little blood smears all down my legs as I swiped them off me. Nice!

The Princess of Wales beckoned anyway, where we partook of a few ales, ate some gastro pub fayre and talked about all manner of things, including, but not restricted to, how good the recent Afghan Whigs concert was, the films of Andrei Tarkovsky, freakish real cats on Instagram with mad eyes and how Randy Johnson once destroyed a dove with a high 90 mph pitch in a Spring Training game. A visit to YouTube was required for that last one.

The evening complete, we returned to Chalk Farm underground station and headed homewards.