We caught the train again.
We brought him three 4XL Tall tees from Foot Locker because UK Foot Locker doesn't sell shirts his size. On his front door window was displayed a shirt we gave him last time we visited and a sign that read "Bunter's T-Shirt Museum". The small print of the sign on his door read "Entrance fee: 1 new T-shirt (family discount)"
Once inside he handed me what I swear was the best beer of my entire life and put me to work on cleaning chairs for us to sit on while we barbecued outside. I enjoyed the work after being unemployed for almost two weeks.
Everyone helped with the cleaning but I don't think cleaning could ever help tame the jungle that Bunter calls home.
His backyard was a bicycle heaven/eden with endless bicycle parts. His collection has shrank since our last visit 6 years ago but it's still quite impressive.
We drank a lot of beer. Here is a picture of my dad posing with his bottle of Hobgoblin.
We barbecued with the aid of some highly advanced technology.
The night was a blast and I feel Bunter helped our family bond by forcing us to be perfectly honest with each other.
Then we drank some more and his lodger, Kurt, showed up to join the party.
After this point the night became quite a blur but I do remember Bunter describing the time he had to carry Leo and his friend out of a bar for picking a fight with Scottish guards. Maybe they were Irish. Who knows? Leo surely doesn't. Bunter walked us out in the tattered remains of the shirt he recieved from us during our last visit. Unlike the shirt, we made it home in one piece.
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