It is with great sadness that I announce the passing of Ollie Lambert, who has left Norwich for the bright lights of London and the barren wasteland that is Essex. For Tuesday 3rd September was his last night in Norwich. No more will we hear the maddening table drumming which he tormented us with. Crazily themed games will no longer be eagerly championed, as we all turn to crushingly dour economic games. And the Ribs stock of drinks and chocolate will finally have a chance of respite from the constant hammering he gave their supply every week.
There were big plans to celebrate his last night at NoBoG, but he didn't turn up. So all the presents we'd brought for him, along with the party bunting and finger food, were tossed into the Wensum, like an offering to some Norse god. On fire. Curse you, Ollie!
There were big plans to celebrate his last night at NoBoG, but he didn't turn up. So all the presents we'd brought for him, along with the party bunting and finger food, were tossed into the Wensum, like an offering to some Norse god. On fire. Curse you, Ollie!
Twelve were in attendance. We played in no particular order: In the Year of the Dragon, Toledo, Ys, Ra, and the King of Siam. Richie the Younger brought some fresh blood with him - whose names I've totally forgotten, if I ever actually knew them in the first place. One of them locked himself in the toilet. Ollie will be missed, but the cycle continues. Sukothai!
Beer: I had a pint of Comet (not sure of the brewery), which although a bit darker than I prefer, was perfectly acceptable. 5/10