The date is Friday 25th June. the time is straight after works kicks out (i.e. 6pm onwards. if you want to come along later, no worries, we'll probably be there until 11pmish, depending on last trains).

the venue is The Prince Arthur, Eversholt Street, Euston.
More on the pub: http://www.golden-p.co.uk/

We've got the left-hand side of the pub reserved for us.
Location: http://www.golden-p.co.uk/location.htm and Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=NW1+1BX&ie=UTF8&z=16&...

Just to reassure anyone who's never been to a Word drinks before, it's an extremely friendly crowd! So come and join us. Everyone's welcome regardless of whether you're a regular poster or a lurker!

Now, based on a previous thread, I think the following people are coming. Who else is joining us?

Ganglesprocket
Leedsboy
Richie B
Beezer
Carl Parker
the mvps
Joe R
Neil Dyson
Five-Centres
Big Guxy
Rosbif
idiotbear
Baskerville Old Face
Twangothan
Vorgongod
Mondo
Specs_Beard (with crackers)
and me.

PS If you can't make this one, the next one's going to be on September 10th...

FYI: Members of the Massive from Spain, Chile, Switzerland and Honduras might be otherwise engaged on the 25th.

Oh dear, I find I'm watching television that night.

No, not really :-) I'd be up for catching the train from sunny Bucks down to the old smoke, but we're on holiday in Cornwall. Looking promising for Sep 10 though!

I have my Wonka Bar Golden Ticket in my hot and sweaty p.

Counting the minutes.

...see y'all there...

I'm at a work function in Colchester but I'll try to get away a bit early and make it for the latter part of the evening if i can.

the plan

Will attend while trying to punt the idea of his( Now July 18th) Beatles walk/singalong..The 11th is World cup final day-and Hannah of this parish's birthday. Whatever was I thinking?

I see no mention of penguin, jodhpurs, rapscallion or otter, get a grip woman! :)

I'm going to be there.

Wouldn't miss it

I'm taking on more work at the hospital at the moment so my attendance will depend upon my shift patterns.

The NHS have first call on me this bank holiday.
Sinking a few pints would be much more enjoyable than trying to fix a doctor's broken laptop!!!!!!

I'll be there. Looking forward to it.

I'm on holiday on the 25/6

10/9 should be good. I've got a pink ticket for the next drinks meet-up..

The last meet up I had to dash to Frankfurt (bloody clients!), but I will try my best this time.

The Word book club rumbles on - I have a copy the Massive's copy of Nick Kent's "Apathy for the Devil" to pass on to whoever wants it. Give me a shout below if you do...

Should a bar football table be made available? And a pinball machine?

who are playing in Hyde Park that evening. Still, I can either pop in for one beforehand or come over afterwards. Maybe Eddie and the boys will need a pint or two afterwards...

can I come too? I promise not to overdress this time.

Looking forward to meeting the physical manifestations of Five Centres (come in this time, eh?) and 'andsome P - and all the usual suspects.

Do you think we'll drag Fraser away from the Spain game?

...around 7:30. Football has no hold on me.

...and infrequent poster.

If I can make it (and summon up the courage to meet a bunch of strangers!) then I may well come along for a few jars and a natter.

But enjoy y'selves!

I finish work in Muswell Hill around half six, so may be a bit late; but once the babysitter's sorted, I'm there. I think.

Out late from work (not in London) - thought of hot train into the smoke...arrrgh. Bottled it. Have a great time.

I look forward to talking more bollocks again with many of you soon.

... Five Centers, Richie B, Carl Parker, Hannah, Backwards7, Capt Underpants, Vorgongod, Joe K, idiotbear, Fraser R and all of the others...

Lovely to see you all. Apologies for the ones I forgot and whose name I have misspelt...

Sheesh, I was nattering away at you! Where are my manners?

How soon you forget. See y'all soon!

I was really looking forward to the bash, then was poleaxed by some bug and had to retire to bed at 5pm, from where I've only emerged to watch to the footie highlights last night before crawling back under the duvet, from where I'm sending this. Thank the lord for the iPhone.

and many thanks to Hannah for organising.

Yes it is daunting walking into a room of strangers, but those doubts evaporated amongst the friendly chatter.

Message to Vorgongod: Can you let me have the name of that Scottish folkie I listened to outside the pub. Ta.

Hope to be there in September.

Busiest week at work for a couple of years (and for all the wrong reasons) meant my Massive cherry is still intact.

Mebbe next time...

It hurts.

My head is giving me gip too.... But hey,I'd just successfully trained my first batch of teachers, I've got a week off, it was Friday night, it was the Massive meetup and, as ever, it was brilliant. Great to see you all, old and new...roll on September! Phil, that folkie's name is Dick Gaughan....

Is that a song title - should be if not. Great night of nattering, banter and booze

Bloody Guinness. And now I'm going to teach small children. Not fair.

Great to see you all, either again or for the first time. I also hope to see some of the missing faces in September; Lunaman, Twang and Azeem I was thinking of you all.
We also had a first last night; my friend Pete signed up as a new member of the Massive via his iphone in the pub.

I thought it was wise I left when I did otherwise who knows how I'd be feeling today.

Really good to meet everyone at last, see you in September.

Any chance of a fixture down Carlisle way ??

Us hairy,Whippet keeping North Country types would like to catch a glimpse of you cosmopolitan city dwellers.Even us Heathens can work a camera.Scandalous.

In a pub a few doors along from a shop which claims to be the world's largest centre for transvestites and transsexuals, Word reader Ganglesprocket is recounting an attempt at transforming himself into a carbon copy of Levon Helm from The Band (nominated this evening by general consensus as the coolest human being of the late 60s). To this end a brown corduroy jacket was acquired along with other accessories, only for the whole enterprise to founder on Mr Spocket’s unfortunate inability to grow a convincing beard.

I am astounded by the revelation that the slush piles of publishing house are awash with cat detective fiction – this being crime novels in which the mystery is solved by the owner’s cat. Surely it’s a genre with huge money making and movie spin-off potential. I might have a go at penning some myself.

I learn that the interminably structured planning stages of television programming actively stifles creativity and the free-flow of ideas, while radio still very much favours the lone improviser. I get to hear potted biographical accounts of the theatrical understudy, the barn dance folk artist and the music blogger. I discuss Two Tree Island’s joint role as a suicide / dogging hotspot; the strange twilight years of the Radio Times as a publication bought more out of habit; and the seldom talked about musical landscape of the early 1960s.

True to her word, Hannah brings Chocolate Peppermint Brownies. They are really good – chocolaty and pepperminty all the way through. Later as crackers and dips are broken out, a pair of refugees from Pearl Jam’s Hyde Park gig arrive and are immediately directed to the bar just in time for last orders.

As is usual for these events, throughout the evening I catch glimpses of familiar faces from afar, who I then don’t get to talk to. Strangely when I arrived everyone was seated in a deflated circle, an advancing border of chairs expanding across the left side of the pub, engulfing small tables as more people joined the group.

On the walk back to Euston Station, Mr Sprocket remarks on how unusually sober he feels. We split off and disappear down different coloured railway lines.

London Underground’s lackadaisical late night service leaves me sprinting from Tower Hill to Fenchurch Street Station in order to catch the last train home, hurling myself like Indiana Jones through the automatic doors of the carriage: This heroic dash is subsequently undermined by the train which sits on the platform for another couple of minutes until it has acquired its regulation quotient of drunks.

I share a block of seats with a pair of warring girls who are too pissed to stagger upright and settle their differences, and so instead resort to kicking in each other’s general direction, while screaming abuse and making dark threats about slicing faces with razor blades. Somehow I fall asleep in the middle of this. When I wake up they’re gone. I’ve missed my stop, as I predicted would be the case, and the train is rolling into Shoeburyness station. A freshly opened bottle of white wine is knocked over by the trailing hand of its barely-conscious owner and the contents head down the carriage towards me like a flash flood.

Lovely to see everyone, as ever. I didn't get to speak to everyone I'd have liked to, but hopefully we can remedy that in September.

I promise to restrict the amount of pig slaughter in my anecdotes in future.

... and the corduroy jacket will probably be in evidence if the Word bloggers meet up around September...

Thanks again to Hannah for twin organisation/baking duties - and it was great to see everyone and add a match a few more faces to my memory bank of Massive names.

Already fear I may miss September (Prom ticket!) but hope to see you all again soon.

read that as Porn ticket?

and it was nice to put some faces to the made-up names. Sadly I had to leave before the end to get my train back to the Midlands (the border at Luton closes at Midnight), so I didn't get the opportunity to talk to everyone. If you've never been and if you're half thinking about coming along to the next one, I would thoroughly recommend it. A very welcoming bunch, and you get brownies. Thanks for organising it, Hannah.

I had a marvellous night. Splendid to see old friendly faces and new ones alike, and special thanks to Handsome for making the long journey to London. And - small world alert - turns out idiotbear went to school with my best mate!

Really looking forward to seeing you in September - any special cake requests? ;-)

love Hannah xxx

... is full of praise for Mr 7's prose stylings. Genuinely. And she knows all about cat fiction...

Linda Hounsell felt the presence of her black cat, Byron, long before she saw him. The psychic bond that she shared with this brilliant, incorrigible feline had grown stronger ever since their narrow escape from the mysterious blaze that had consumed Rosebottom branch library.

A moment later Byron entered the room through a crack in the door, nonchalantly brushing up against her stocking as he passed by.

~I trust that my gift was to your liking, my Lady~

In the flickering candlelight Linda did her best to conceal her smile. The handmade champagne truffles that she had found propped-up on her pillow were from her favourite Belgian chocolatier; the exquisite hand-written sonnet on the gift card, clearly one of Byron’s own creations. She pondered for a moment on how far he had come from the naive young kitten who once used to leave dead birds at her feet.

“Thank you, they were lovely,” she said. “Although I rather think we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

She cast her eyes in the direction of the body of the 29th Earl of Stratford who lay prostrate on the tiger skin rug next to his antique writing desk. The local police, baffled by the cause of death and the possible motive, had withdrawn for the evening, turning over the crime scene to Linda in the hope that her amateur sleuthing powers would succeed where their professional efforts had failed.

Byron paced the chalk outline that marked the perimeter of the Earl’s body, his tail swishing back and forth like a dowsing rod.

~The likely cause of death is two large entry wounds to the chest. I would say that the murder weapon is a high calibre pistol, possibly a .475 Wildey Magnum with an 18 inch barrel extension~

He stopped by the Earl’s head, his whiskers twitching as his tongue dabbed one cheek.

~Subject’s face appears to have been liberally coated with semen~

“So he was sexually assaulted and then killed.”

~Unlikely, unless his assailant was a 15 year old African rhino with type II diabetes. No, my Lady. I believe that the killer is trying to communicate with us~

He bowed his head as if in deep thought. When he eventually roused himself from his meditation he hit her with the full force of his green eyes.

~I fear that I will not be dining with you this evening. Instead I must travel to Limehouse and consult with the Kittens~

Linda felt a sinking feeling building in the pit of her stomach. The kittens were a pair of thuggish ginger toms whose criminal empire extended across most of the East End of London. While an uneasy truce, born out of mutual respect, existed between Byron and these hardened gangsters, she had often felt that this pretence of friendship could revert to former hostilities at any time.

“Do be careful, my Love.”

Byron paused, framed in the open window of the study, the billowing white silk curtain momentarily transforming him from silhouette to shadow.

~Always, My Lady~