On Monday evening James, Ally, Davie, Chanel and I had a curry to mark the ending of Game of Thrones. This epic television series, based on the books by George R.R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire, has run for eight seasons, all of which we have watched with great enjoyment. It has been full of sex, violence, treachery and battles, but the main attraction is that it has told an excellent tale about the history of the seven great houses of Westeros, threatened by the Night Walkers from the north and the Targaryen army from the south. During our dinner we all predicted what we thought would happen in the last episode, and who would ultimately sit on the Iron Throne. We all got it wrong.
I did enjoy the final episode, but found the last part of it rather muted as it had to tidy up the last few loose ends. This last series, a victim of its own success, has attracted a disproportionate and ridiculous amount of criticism as its avid fans all feel that they could have concluded it better themselves. However I felt that the series was good and that the ending was appropriate.
I didn’t realise until Tuesday that the meal I was going to have that evening with my Duke of Edinburgh friends was also a curry. Needless to say this made me feel a bit apprehensive because although I love curries they don’t always love me back. I’m glad to say that all was well, maybe my body was so surprised to be fed two curries in a row that it was too shocked to protest. I had a lovely evening with Carolyn, Shona, John and Kenny, reminiscing about our many adventures on the hills, and we all vowed to meet more often.
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