Columns

Critic sets up two lucky students on a blind date.

Charles
The hour drew nigh as I made my merry way to the tavern of Toaste Barre. Though my journey was long and arduous, I let neither bogle nor banshee nor goblin from the cave of UniColle prevent me from reaching my destination and sharing many a goblet of mead with my lady. The gods must have smiled upon me for they blessed me with fast passage, allowing me ample time to polish my armour before she arrived; a knight must look his best if he is to court a lady.
 
After being regaled by many a great fable from the tavern-keeper, I excused myself to “drain the dragon”, so to speak. I returned to find my lady waiting for me with the innkeeper. Ay, she was as beautiful as the kingdom of Albion on a warm summer’s morn; bards would write songs about her for years to come.

After the customary introductions, and the concoction of several potions and elixirs by the tavern-keeper, we retreated to a more comfortable nook, lit by the soft light of a lone torch on the cobblestone wall. Wanting to court this fine lady, yet not to bore her, I elected to withhold my fables of defeating the dragon of Angmoor, and slaying of the black beast of Aargghe, and instead regaled her with far more interesting details, such as that of my upbringing and my higher training at the Magisterium of Otagoe.

Not just a pretty face, I found much in common between this lovely baroness and I; we especially connected around our love for the Nordic art of skiing, and our mutual contempt for loathsome trolls on their snoeboardes. Strangely enough, she knew many of the squires, knights, and barons that I knew, and we rejoiced in our newfound heritage.

After sharing many a great tale in Toaste Barre, the air grew stale with boredom, and we retreated together to the Italian inn of Di Lusso, where we might continue our endeavours. After sharing several more goblets at the inn, the cold nor’ winds finally got the better of us, and after gifting me the number for her magical letter machine, she made haste back to her castle, leaving me to journey home once more, my armour clanking all the way.
 
Diana
And so it began. After a hard day of Facebook stalking at the library ,I proceeded to Castle Street for the evening where I consumed six “Cindy’s” and countless beer bongs. Pulling myself together, I ventured to Toast, fashionably late of course. On entry I scanned the room, which was occupied by about ten patrons (seven of which were in fact my friends, unbeknown to my date.) I perched myself at the bar and chatted to the bar tender about my misdemeanours of the previous weekend.
 
Out of nowhere my Leonardo DiCaprio appeared. His attire consisted of a pressed dress shirt (expensive looking) tucked in to well-fitted dress pants, groomed hair perfectly placed where it was intended to be and a cheeky smile to match. Awkwardly we introduced ourselves. He seemed rather relieved I was actually female. With him unaware of the observations happening behind us, I suggested we proceed to the sleazy booth to continue conversation. Much of our conversation consisted of subjects that exceeded my intelligence, but I somehow managed to make out I knew what I was talking about. We found we were both from the same region and to my horror he was familiar with some people I am too accustomed with.
 
Sucking back my drink, I suggested we go elsewhere because the lolly water we were being provided with had run out. We had a few lines of blow off the toilet seat and advanced into the tropical Dunedin night. Being familiar with Dunedin and all its finest, I introduced him to just that, Lucky 7. Being a cool evening we warmed up in the plunge pool and I let him get friendly with the locals. All the activity had us both working up an appetite so we dried off and popped next door to see Henry for some Bombay curry. Time was ticking and I had my booty call calling me so we called it a night.