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"Where were you? Part 2" Thursday, March 17th:

(continued from previous posting. Note: all names have been changed on the advice, or lack thereof, of my legal counsel. Thus Cliona is now Ruby...but don't mention the fact if questioned under oath or in open court)

I remember that the security floodlights were on as I left the house because I could see a number of cows idling in the garden - a consequence no doubt of GBJs recent bored whim to do a little weeding in the garden with a hired 3 tonne JCB earth mover, which had also understandably taken out virtually all vegetation and natural contours that had previously kept the cows out.

On the walk over to Ruby's I passed the house where the devil dogs live, who, true to form, appeared like missiles out of the darkness at the back of their roadside garden, yapping like banshees...that yap. No matter how many time I pass this house they always scare the crap out of me, apart from, that is, on this occasion. On this occasion, although not prepared for their sudden sharp yapping onslaught, I was not startled, most likely because of the slow motion 'Matrix' effect that alcohol seems to have on me. With the initiative on my side - for surely no one had ever ignored their barrage of piercing yaps - I decided to freak them out and walk straight up to the chain linked fence that separated us and make like Ghandi; stand and stare in passive resistance. And blow me - not that I wanted to be blown by a devil dog of course - it worked. The pair of them backed off, all tails wagging and happy to make my acquaintance. At about this point their owner appeared as if out of nowhere and enquired as to whether everything was OK, which I informed her it was. A short - I believe - conversation ensued, none of which I can recall, apart from a bit about her being a student at the university here on the island. What exactly she is studying is blank, but obviously interesting enough for me to invite myself over one evening for a longer chat. Quite how this proposal went down is also blank, but the dogs were not let lose so I can only assume it found some favour. Unfortunately though, I cannot remember her name and as it was dark, and she was dark, I have no idea of what she looks like. Thus I know as much, if not less, about her as I would if I had met her in an internet chat room, and on that basis will probably not take myself up on my kind invitation to pop over for a chat.

Ruby's place was winding down by the time I arrived and the field had reduced from three to one. Despite this, and as one does when the blood is up and the alcohol is still flowing, I decided that the odds were still good. At least I think this is what I thought because I'm not exactly sure of anything from around this point on. I vaguely remember finishing the Sancerre and then applying myself to the beer in the cool bags, and I vaguely remember chatting to Ruby...about what, I know not.

The rest of HST day I have pieced together partly from vague of recollections but mainly from eyewitness accounts;

• At some stage during the Sancerre I propositioned the lady of the house - apparently I was quite blunt. Unfortunately she did not acquiesce. Fortunately she did not call the police. Shortly thereafter I was slung out.

• I can only assume, given that no one has come forward to say otherwise, that I made my way back home...or to be more accurate, the home of my next door neighbour. Jan (name changed to protect the innocent) is a lovely lady, all 17, free bus pass, waddling stone of her. Quite why Jan was up at this hour she did not say. However, there is always the possibility that I hammered on her door until she opened up, a fact she was too polite to mention when questioned later.

• Around about or somewhere between 3.00 and 4.00am, I invited myself to swim naked in Jan's swimming pool. Having very athletically swum around for over 20 minutes, I retired, still naked, to a sun lounger and consumed the remainder of the third cool bag of beer. The fact that it was a dark moonless night must account for the fact that Jan failed to notice I was naked, unless of course, she was too polite to mention it when questioned later. Some time after 4.00am I was slung out...whether still naked I have no idea.

• The next day Jan brought round two empty cool bags (I assume the other is with Ruby) and requested the return of her towel (?). I obliged. As she turned to leave she mentioned that she was exhausted on account of me having kept her up all night. At this point my cardiovascular system shut down. As she walked away, I'm positive I heard her say, "you don't half talk a lot". Thereafter my cardiovascular system resumed normal operation.

My HST day didn't involve guns, or sex (although nearly) and unfortunately the drug element cannot be referred to here because of reporting restrictions and the fact that I have to live here for a while, but it was a good HST day, despite the absence of the aforementioned elements. I think is was a good 'omage. It was an enjoyable 'omage. It was an 'omage that started out with me drinking Chivas Regal alone in a bar, and ended up, 14 hours later, with me naked in the swimming pool of a 17 stone, 65 year old plus woman from the Isle of Man....having taken in a brush with devil dogs and a brutal petition for sex...and if that 'aint good enough for you pal, for a spur of the moment 'omage, then go fuck yourself.

Here's to you Hunter

PWP (proofed whilst pissed)