(no subject)

Last night I went out to a pub quiz. It was meant to be a big work event, but it sort of spiralled into just being my supervisor Kath, her fiance Rob, me and Richie who has suddenly been enveloped into work events, no one is quite sure how. I was mildly concerned it was going to be awkward, and just hoped enough booze would be flowing to make the social anxiety calm down a bit. It was made about three times more awkward by the arrival of loads of Rob's work friends.

Luckily, a pub quiz is a great leveller. As is a few pints. I have to thank amchau and loneraven who sent me text messages letting me know what MASH stood for, but I say with some pride that I know where the band Royksopp come from (Norway), the first line of Twelfth Night ("if music be the food of love, play on"), and there was a semi-epic battle about what TARDIS stood for and where dimensions was pluralised; the argument eventually descended into "look, canonically and grammatically are two different questions!" It was all good fun.

And most importantly, we won! I've never won a pub quiz before! Apparently we absolutely destroyed the regular winners. Unfortunately, all we got for our pain was a box of Millers. I already have a box of them at home. It's never going to be bloody drunk! We're having a bit of a Comic Relief bash tomorrow night because David Tennant is going to be on, so possibly I will force it on unsuspecting people.

And now, a day of Victorian politics. Tomorrow I have to get up stupidly early to get to Dunfermline to have my back examined. This will hopefully result in getting some cash for my continuing back problems. I just hope the consultant isn't running over, because I have to get back to St Andrews, wolf some lunch down (obviously a soft lunch, argh) and go to work hopefully on time. At least I've got the evening to look forward to, although I'm a bit afraid of seeing Robert Webb's dance again...