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Penny Young: Wednesday night is games night
Wednesday It doesn't often happen that all five of us are at home. And aware of it.
Wednesday
It doesn't often happen that all five of us are at home. And aware of it.Occasionally, we can all be at home and remain completely unaware of it, thinking that we have the house entirely to ourselves - just as we are settling down to an afternoon of made-for-TV movies and handfuls of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes straight from the packet, a door slams somewhere and then another one, and, before you know it, a whole houseful of people has emerged from behind their bedroom doors.
It's at that point that the person on the sofa has to jump up, hide the cereal packet, turn off the television and start spraying the can of Mr Sheen hidden under the cushion for just such an emergency.
But enough of my housekeeping tips. Tonight we were all home, and, as there is no EastEnders on a Wednesday, we found ourselves at a loose end. Someone suggested a board game. It would make a cultivated change from this week's crises in Albert Square, we all agreed. But which one?
"Monopoly!" said Tom. But the girls and I will no longer play Monopoly with Tom and Mr Young because they take it all very seriously. Normally, the girls and I lend each other money if we run out and swap houses and hotels round whenever we think sections of the board need a bit of cheering up. But that's women for you. We recognise that it's all just a bit of fun.
Men, on the other hand, react with horror as we cheerfully throw wodges of cash over the table to each other. "You can't DO that!" they shout. "It's not in the RULES!"
The last time all of us did actually play, we had to leave them both to it in the end. Three hours later, they were still at it. Gritted teeth and sweaty brows, secretly counting their money under the table and building pathetic little green and red plastic townships. Tom was even blowing on his dice before each go.
So, "Trivial Pursuit, then?" said Mr Young, the Pub Quiz King, hopefully.
"No!" said everyone else. The girls and I only ever know the pink ones, and Tom only knows the brown ones. So the four of us just circulate endlessly with our pink and brown triangles, while Mr Young accumulates the full wheel and is doing a triumphant winner's lap before we've even had a chance to cheat.
In the end, Mr Young fetched down his Texas Hold'Em poker set, and we played until dawn. Well, it wasn't really dawn. More like a couple of hours. And we used real money. At one point, I was ahead by 1.66.
Guess who won, though? That's right - Mr Young.
"Well, it's not surprising, really," said Harriet, yawning. "He has had a lot of practice."
Mr Young tried to change the subject quickly by pointing out a new stain on the ceiling, but my ears had pricked up. What, I asked her, did she mean by a lot of practice?
"He's always playing internet poker," she said. "Every time I walk past the study it's on the screen." This was news to me. I had been under the impression that he was putting together an important sales report.
"Get down off that chair," I said to Mr Young, who was still trying to pretend he'd noticed an odd brown stain just above the cooker hood. He got down sheepishly and went out with his head hanging low.
"Hey! Doc Holliday!" I said. "Come back here and give me my 1.66!"
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Weather for Peterborough
Sunday 12 February 2012
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