Dave made the mistake of telephoning me this morning to find out what Mark had told me about last night. When I told him that Mark has said nothing (he'd gone to do archery), Dave tried to act innocent. I vowed to find out what I had missed.   Dave came over about an hour later and confessed everything - he'd become very drunk and accidentally been pulled by Mary McCrindle. The amorous tonsil hockey had also been accidental. The wandering hands were pure habit and waking up in her room was merely the result of the hindbrain kicking in. He denied all responsibility for his actions. How we chuckled.   In an act of petty revenge, he 'accidentally' knocked over my Caffrey's pint glass causing it to shatter all over my bedroom floor. This brings the total number of pint glasses destroyed in the flat to four, including one which disintegrated when I put it down on the kitchen bench. That's craftsmanship, that is. We are now left with three pint glasses (one of which is really a pint plastic - it should remain intact unless Dave steps on it). If we continue this way we'll be drinking beer out of tall glasses soon.   We spent the afternoon making a compilation tape commemorating Dave's conquest. Cruel, possibly, but it passes the time.   Today's advent calendar image: candle.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.