The Abbot arrived with a mobile phone attached to the side of his head and we headed out into the heaving metropolis that is Worcester. Finding our way to Fish Street we met up with Clint, Stoker (and eventually the Cardinal) for a pre-prandial libation. After concluding that Bomardier was indeed a very fine ale we trooped down to the restaurant that was to host the evening's activity.

Brown's is evidently an old riverside warehouse on the quay on the side of the River Severn. It has been transformed into a modern airey restaurant. Toffee was there when we arrived, so quorate, we began. Without reciting the menu, GF would say that the food was very, very good; the wine (studiously and judiiciously selected by the Cardinal) luscious, and food always tastes better when surrounded by good company.

Conversation, rippled round the table with stories of football, rugby, DIY, work and other heroism. By the middle of the evening text messages were beginning to punctuate the conversation with dispatches from friends and loved ones watching the UEFA Cup Final. With only two Everton supporters part of our group the progression of the game became even more tense. UltimatelyLiverpool won. Good triumphed over Evil, and the City of Liverpool actualluy has a successful football team. (GF ducks at this point).

Eventually, with wine stocks running low, conversation turning to work, the Everton supporters feeling suicidal, we called it a night. But a damned fine night it was.