I WAS watching the television the other night - which I don't do very often - and was reminded of a tale, which is true, and happened a few years ago.

As a regular in a city pub, I got to know a bloke called Electric Tom (he worked for the MEB) who was a pretty sharp fellow, it has to be said.

Well, one night, Tom hit upon this amazing plan to get home without driving, as he'd had a few.

He rang the Indian restaurant, the Bay of Bengal, which was two doors from the pub.

Amazingly, it was only a few years ago I realised the Bay of Bengal was a stretch of water.

Anyway, Electric rings them up and asks if they deliver. They say, sure but there's a 50p delivery charge to his village.

Tom places his order, waits five minutes and then nips round to the restaurant and says "have you got an order for ......"etc.

"Yes," they say.

"Well that's me," he says, "can you give me a lift home?"

And they did.

You know, last week, I was on about habit and how we see the same people in the same place when you go to work or things like that.

Well, I met Spud Harris this week. We went to school together.

Spud reminded me of the Saturday morning bus that we used to catch into the big city.

This bus used to stop outside an old lady's house at Broadheath on the way in. The driver would blow his horn and the old lady who lived there would hobble out.

It happened every Saturday.

One day, however, we stopped outside, he blew his horn - and the old woman didn't come out.

Someone from the back of the bus shouted: "She's gone to her daughter's for the weekend."

Now, how about that for service?

I must mention the night at Sixways last Friday.

Some days are simply just better than others, and this was one of the good nights out, and what an atmosphere.

I'm not going to Italy as we're having a soot-plaiting competition in our pub on Saturday night, so I don't want to miss that. And I've got tickets for the Upton-upon-Severn versus Cleobury Mortimer game as well.