Depending on the Strangeness of Strangers

Today marks two significant anniversaries - 4 years to the day since I arrived in York, and my last Saturday night here. Fitting that it should end on such a high note in the Yorkshire Terrier, a scene of several stand-out memories for me, since the day I got back from Oz covered in snow, Lint eating a flower, pretending to buy champagne and then flouncing off, the first night of the new opening hours where we were having such a good conversation that none of us went downstairs to order drinks after 10.30, and the night a few weeks ago where Tom, Helen and I had our first 4 drinks rejected (Can I have a Terrier? No you can't. OK, can I have a Guzzler? No you can't. Right then - purple J20. Purple...is that the only colour you like?) then asked the same barmaid for advice on what was good - "There's this one, that's shit, and this one's shit too. That one's pretty nice, this one's average, and the other two are pretty shit. I'd have the third one if I were you."

The fun tonight started with an overheard conversation. Iasonas, Lint and I had been having a relatively low-key chat about all sorts of things (hotels vs sleeper trains, comparing ill girlfriends, how desperate the NUS are for members at the moment) when a heated debate ensued on the table behind us. "No, I think you'll find that at the end of Search for Spock, after Scotty says 'It should take 8 weeks, but I'll do it in 4' Kirk comes back with 'You've got 2.' I'm sure of it." Oh dear - Trekkies. I don't mind watching Star Trek, but I can't get excited enough about it to argue in a pub. This argument continued for several minutes, and expanded to include photon torpedoes, light sabres (different universe, I know) and graphical demonstrations of lowering shields, including banging on the table.

I really didn't notice much of this, beyond the "You've got 2" part - I was generally aware of a lot of raised voices behind me, but wasn't interested enough to listen in. When one went to the loo, Iasonas pointed out her "I Love Wookies" T-shirt, which I failed to see as well.

After another 10 or 15 minutes, they walked out, leaving only the 3 of us and another table of 3 who'd also been having a quiet conversation. About 10 seconds after they left, one of the guys at the other table said loudly "Fucking hell!" To which we all cracked up. We had a little bit of a chat about which was the worst part of the whole scenario, then as that petered out, went back to our respective chats.

And it could have ended there, were it not for the fact that now my people-watching senses were on alert. Sure enough, I was rewarded by "Mike, would you like to relieve me of my burdensome potato?" a sentence which will live in my memory for some considerable time. I've been described before as having a very free and extrovert laugh - my reaction would have made my normal laugh look shy and retiring and go and hide in the kitchen at a party. Fortunately, they also saw the funny side.

It turned out that Tim had been given a spud gun for his recent birthday, and so had brought it and a potato out with him. His potato had a large gouge in it - not a gash, not a crack, a gouge. He demonstrated the gun's use by shooting Mike repeatedly, who started to get a little annoyed, took the potato and forced it into Tim's half-full pint glass, splashing himself, Tim and the specials board in the process. "Now look what you've done Tim, I'm going to have to go to the loo and wash off."

What happened next makes me think that Tim and I would be dangerous together. At the exact same moment, both of us voiced the same thought - "Does Mike's coat have any pockets?" Tim scrabbled to get the now soggy potato out of his glass and into Mike's coat pocket. He then drank the rest of his pint, with a little help from his girlfriend Clare, who ended up eating a bit of potato. (This spawned a side-conversation about "A night out in a glass" - beer, baked potato and maybe a bit of cheese sprinkled on top. Other recipe suggestions included mashed potato and Carling.)

Mike returned from the loo, and he must have known Tim quite well, because the very first thing he did was look in his pocket. He was not happy. He shook the phone off and started wiping it on his shirt in one hand, still holding the potato in the other. "That's a brand new phone. It's not even mine, it's on a work contract. You're so out of order, I'm really annoyed now. You've got potato on my phone now."

"It's a pity Tim didn't get an orange for his birthday." I don't know where this came from, but I think it may be one of the funniest things I've ever said (not a patch on "I think you've got a problem there," which is still the only triple-bank punchline I've ever made, but definitely in the top ten). I think this took a second or two for everyone else to get it, then there were fits of laughter being had by all. Mike put the potato to his ear - "Hello, is that Orange customer service? Yes, I'd like to switch providers please." - a beautiful visual gag.

I'm not too sure how the rest of the conversation went. Certainly at one point, Mike decided that the only valid response to the potato incident was for him to steal Clare as compensation (Chip : "So Clare, how does being compared with a potato feel?"), we discovered that Tim's spud gun had a safety catch, and Clare revealed that Tim might be a closet Trekkie, because he knew all the answers to the Maize Maze this year!

I'm actually a little sad that I'll never see them again. To get a little philosophical, I don't see why there should be a limit on how long you know someone before you call them a friend - I would happily have invited them to my leaving party on Friday if I could have worked it into the conversation somehow. (Isn't that exactly what Annick did with me the day I qualified, after all?)