How many years is that now?

It’s the last Thursday of the month and that means that I’m heading out for the MBCC dinner this evening. And this is the first last Thursday of the month of the year, which means that we’re starting yet another year of this monthly boys’ dinner thing.

How many years is that now?

Definitely at least several. It must be getting into the late teens (if not more), and that would make it the third longest thing I’ve been a part of since I moved to SA some few years ago. That’s after football and my relationship with Mrs 6000, obviously. Without the latter, I wouldn’t even be here.
Without the other two, I might not be here either though, I guess.

I think it’s quite impressive that we’ve kept it up for so long (careful now). Personal friendships are one thing, but it takes some organisation and discipline to keep a group thing going. And amongst a group of guys… well, that’s to be applauded. Because generally, organisation and discipline aren’t necessarily up there with the most recognised of attributes for an assembly of blokes.

And so I guess we’ll celebrate in the usual manner this evening, with some beers, some decent food, chat about footy, golf, poker and not cycling, and throw in a smattering of jokes in poor taste.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Day 672 – The Boys Are Back In Town

(with apologies to Thin Lizzy)

I’ve been doing a lot of jobs around the house today. Nothing huge, just trying to get a few maintenance things done and tick them off the ever-present list. But tonight, we’re back, and by “we” I mean the Molton Brown Curry Club. The MBCC has been going for at least… ooh… several years now. An opportunity for a few good-looking, middleish-aged guys to get together once a month over a meal (not necessarily a curry, but hey, why not?) and shoot the southeaster over recent developments in the sporting, political, pandemical and any other world. A brief escape from the travails of real life.

I’m looking forward to this evening. My only worry is any potential discussion of Wordle, which I have managed to block out of my life on most social media – and actual social – platforms with some reasonable success. It’s bad enough having the derring-do of recent cycling exploits forced upon us without any additional lexicographical nonsense.

Still, the curry will be good.