Curry three days running

I LIKE to pride myself on my knowledge of Cardiff taxi drivers. I would guess I have staggered into nearly every cabbie's car in the Welsh capital over the last few years and many of them have been totally captivated by my witty repartee and conversation (well, in my own mind, they have anyway).
That was why I was somewhat surprised on Thursday night - after an evening's interlude in the wonderful City Arms in the company of my own personal DJ - to find that I did not recognise the lady who picked me up.
She, however, recognised me. "I remember you," she told me. "I gave you a lift home last Monday. You fell asleep in my cab and I had to nudge you to check where you lived."
By a strange quirk of fate Monday was the day we celebrated the Wales Grand Slam success and St Patrick's Day. And I got shown the door of O'Neills because I was having trouble maintaining my balance.
I wondered how I had managed to make it home.
All hail Cardiff taxis.

We are thinking of banning Nicey from all boozing bashes in future. The man has a nasty habit of taking his camera along to these impromptu sessions and recording anyone who appears a bit tired and emotional. Apparently he already has some video of the Fugitive and I doing some rather bad "Dad dancing".
It's got to the point where Nicey is far too nice a nickname for him. From now on he is going to be called Pap, like the intrusive Paparazzi he is becoming.

Finally, finally, I have finished the floor plan for the new WoS "hub". Not without a few headaches mind you, and far too many cooks attempting to interfere with the broth (appropriate analogy when you consider the name of this blog).
Having thought the whole plan had been signed off and subsequently drawn up a list of telephone numbers to be switched I was rather alarmed when "whispering death" - otherwise known as the Celtic and Magazines head honcho - sneaked up behind me and announced, "I've just been asked to make a few changes." AAAARGH!
Out came the tipex and the changes were duly made.
Annoying thing is I don't even remember volunteering for this job.
To celebrate we have now adopted our own version of Souxsie and the Banshees' greatest hit...
"This is... a happy hub,
We're happy here... In this happy hub."
etc etc etc
Meanwhile I have now eaten three successive curries. Not a bad effort I think you'll agree, though I pity anyone who stands too close to me.