Ian was too ill to join us - get well soon mate - but Andrew, thanks to the wonder of radiators, jumped in the car and made a dash up the hill whilst Adam - with an alarming lack of bags under his eyes - and I played The Hive.
I say we played. Actually Adam played - I never got started, and if it was a boxing match my metaphorical coach would have thrown in the metaphorical towel well before the end. Maybe Adam metaphorically slipped on it and knocked himself out on the metaphorical corner post. We'll never know.
As it was my bee - after several desperate delays of the inevitable - succumbed.
Adam - beats Sam, comprehensively.
Sam - loses.
Andrew - perhaps his driving affected by the dampness of his trousers - still hadn't joined us, so I talked Adam through the simple delights of Black Fleet and we quickly had it set up and ready to go. Andrew walked in, sat down, and began sailing his ships like there was no tomorrow. Nautically speaking, there wasn't, as Adam broadsided and scuttled us.
I did manage to force it to a tie-break at least, but when the Creeping Custard already has enough money to flip his last card with a turn to go, and you have had your last turn and only have one doubloon left for a tie-breaker - in gaming parlance, you're fucked.
Adam - 5 cards flipped; 9 doubloons
Sam - 5 cards flipped; 1 doubloon
Andrew - 4 cards flipped.
With the bit now between his teeth Adam took us on at Castles of Mad King Ludwig. He had won this last time he played, but at that point I was just a rank amateur and hadn't fully understood the scoring. I felt with the practise Andrew and I had been putting in, at least one of us would give him a run for his money.
It looked like it'd be Andrew at first as he surged up the score track. But we caught him and as the game neared its end it was fairly close. Then, at the very end, it wasn't close at all:
When is he going to have another baby, for chrissake?