The Aged Sir Clive

So this weekend past Legion2 and oneself headed out for the celebration of Sir Clive Pitbull having survived to a ripe old age.

Said celebration was held in the unexpectedly most hipster joint one has ever attended - our night was beset with bearded waiters, activations, twists, bespoke music, and infusions.

One was particularly surprised that experimental blendings of beer and strawberry cost one more than the default boutique beer, or, after tasting, anything at all.

Poor Legion2 was disdainfully slapped down for having the temerity to ask for a smaller glass to end the evening when anyone who's hip should know that one-size-only is where it's about to be at.

In any case we had a great catch up and natter and were able to monopolise Sir Clive's time for much of the evening.

I was even able to sneak in late with Salsa Girl none the wiser - although Hulk did stir and put me to work before i could collapse gratefully into my waiting bed.
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