He always was a bad loser

Saturday, and we gathered in Emily's house before going bowling - an event I had not been looking forward to. On the drive down I had harboured the faint hope that we would go to some country pub where there would be antique nine-pin alley in the corner of the bar and we could pass the time drinking ale, listening to the locals, very occasionally playing a game of traditional skittles. But as I feared, it was the energetic ten-pin variety we would be playing.

The presence of Gary Spencer meant that we would have to take it very seriously and be organised into teams and play to win. I was resigned to a noisy and fast-moving evening on top of what had already been a tiring day. As well as Gary and Carol Spencer and their four year old son, there was Emily, Julie, Marie-Astrid and her four year old daughter, and myself (whenever I questioned the desirability of bowling, I was told we had to go because the children wanted it, implying that it would ruin their evening if I didn't go along).

Emily lived in a modern chalet-style house in a suburban village location. The house was detached, but was so close to its neighbours that it might as well have been terraced. Downstairs there was a combined lounge and dining area with a kitchen to one side. The big room was furnished completely in white and cream (cream curtains, huge white sofa, white carpet - all immaculately clean). On the walls, and on shelves and ledges were examples of ethnic art (Innuit, Benin, Maori) which were trophies brought back from her annual long distance holidays. We sat on the low white sofa and chairs, round a long glass coffee table loaded with various Thai and Indian dishes (Emily and Marie-Astrid were in the kitchen, getting more food ready).

"She obviously doesn't have a dog" I said, looking at the pristine furnishings.

"She obviously doesn't have a life, there isn't a mark on anything" said Gary.

Carol gave her husband a warning look, presumably afraid Emily would hear. We sat in silence for a while, listening to Philip Glass's Metamorphosis 2, which was playing in the background. The children talked quietly to each other.

"I'm looking forward to tonight" said Gary. "I've been getting into shape recently. I've been doing two hundred sit-ups a night. I do them during Eastenders. I've booked my holiday in Gran Canaria and I'm going to sort my body out ready for it. I'm going to show the world..."

Carol Spencer looked sceptical.

After the meal we drove to the outskirts of town and the bowling arena. Big, bland and featureless on the outside. Inside it was dark split flooring leading down to the dazzling lights of the bowling aisles. Raucous noise of the bowling almost drowned the loud music (Texas Sleep, Leo Sayer and DJ Mech Thunder in my heart, Coldplay Talk). On one side of us were six people aged in their early twenties, all wearing the same white t-shirts which glowed in the fluorescent light, the two girls with blond pony-tails and white baseball caps. On the other side were four men of profound geekiness (ill-fitting clothes, metal-rim glasses, high-fives every time one of them bowled).

We split into two teams of four, and started playing. Three games had been booked, Gary saying this should take us an hour and a half. The children used a metal chute to bowl (this was surprisingly accurate). Against my expectations (and in variance with previous times I have gone bowling) I was extremely good, scoring mostly strikes and half-strikes. My team soon had a commanding lead. I could tell I had played well when Gary Spencer suggested abandoning the last game half-way through as it was "getting late" (he always was a bad loser).