His palms were sweaty/ knees sweaty/arms were sweaty/ there was sweat on his stash already/really sweaty. Nervously, Rower Lad wiped his brow and checked his watch for the thirteenth time in eleven seconds. It was still only 6.59. She wasn’t even late, he reminded himself. It was OK. It was all going to be OK.
Earlier, he had googled “Indiest Locations to Take A Girl In Oxford”, but the results had not been especially helpful. A cursory flick through the Tab Hotlist had suggested an avant-garde spoken word night in Jericho, but he wasn’t sure that a balding performance poet screeching about the Israeli-Palestine confl ict was the way to Houmous Girl’s heart. Still, the Eagle and Child was a lovely little pub. Cosy, intimate, devoid of fi shbowls and apple sourz. Far away from the boozy roar of “Lads! Lads! Lads!” that dogged his every step.
Suddenly, there was a boozy roar. “Lads! Lads! Lads!” Rower Lad glanced around in consternation. Something wasn’t right. As he half-rose to fi nd the source of the unwanted commotion, a meaty hand slapped him jovially in the thorax, causing him to spill half of his artisan beer. The meaty hand was attached to a meaty forearm, which led inevitably to the round, grinning, meaty face of his good friend Rugby Lad, surrounded by a coven of similarly broad individuals.
“Starting early?” roared Rugby Lad, fl ecking Rower Lad with a gentle shower of spittle. “That’s what we like to see!”
“No, I was going to meet- ” Rower Lad stopped. How could he have been such a fool? Whether it was love or an excess of creatine that had dulled his wits, he had entirely forgotten that the annual pub crawl of the All-Oxford Synchronised Belching Team was due to take place that very night, at the very same time, starting in the very same pub where he had arranged to meet his date. What a disaster!
What a colossally unlikely and yet narratively convenient coincidence!
A fragrant figure clad all in ironic denim wafted in through the door. “Chug, chug, chug,” bayed the already-fl atulent crowd. “Love, love, love,” murmured his already-fluttering heart. Rower Lad hesitated, and spoke.
