The 'advance party' have arrived. JPC and Rick Cutler wobbled off a Virgin Atlantic 747 yesterday afternoon, having knocked a serious dent in their liquid hospitality. I collected them from the airport and as ordered, took them directly to my local bar. We 'relaxed' there until a phone call from a Dutchman advised us that there was a large group of thirsty, orange-clad gentlemen (and one lady) waiting at the hotel.
After a bit of a kerfuffle over the rooms, we went directly back to the pub, where we stayed until..... well, I'm not really sure how long we stayed, or how I got home - or what happened to my guests and new/old friends.
I have some blurry memories of last night.
I recall that all of the Netherlanders speak better English than I do. They are all polite, gracious, generous, humorous, considerate and an absolute joy to be in the company of. They all drink like bastards, which gave me great comfort.
Mark Every likes to sing in public.
Mark Every said he'd brought me some tea bags - but failed to hand them over.
Rick Cutler appeared to have scored with two (yes, two) hotties, who were staying at the same hotel and ended-up out on the piss with us.
I think I persuaded the group to go to Daytona Beach today to catch the tail-end of Bike Week, rather than wander amongst the inanimate phalluses at Kennedy Space Center. Time will tell if they heeded my advice. I am deeply worried that they will be back here again tonight - for a repeat performance.
My liver aches.