December 21st 2017

Today I’m on a late train home from work. I’m about five beers over the limit ( by which I mean I’ve had five beers) and had to run to the station to catch the last train. 

I was distracted by the pool table. When we finished work (admittedly somewhat earlier than usual) we went for lunch, then ended up in the pub – where we played pool for five or so hours. 

Two different groups of blokes tried putting money on the table (the universal symbol of etiquette for ‘I want a game please’) but we managed to fight them off. 

Our company monopolised the pool table for all of the afternoon, and, I’ll be honest, I beat most in the company (until the fourth beer, that is). I’ve learnt recently that pool-skill is a bell curve. 

The peak of the bell curve is usually after two (and a half, for me) pints – at which point your pool skills are at their highest – when you get on the other side of two (and a half) pints your ability begins to decline. 

At the peak of the bell curve, I whitewashed one of my greatest competitors. On the other side of the bell curve I lost four doubles games in a row. 

I was supposed to get the seven o’clock train, but I lost a game of pool, so naturally I had to have a rematch. Then, I had to get the eight o’clock train – which I reached by seconds. 

And here I am. Probably net positive for the evening, in terms of wins, and a whitewash that I’ll be able to brag about all over Christmas. 

Until tomorrow, he didn’t even pot a ball. 



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