Saturday was a busy one. I did the usual shop under the cloud of a (guess what?) hangover and returned home to discover that a very old mate from college days had arrived earlier than planned. We had a few cups of tea before meeting up in the pub for an hour with another old mate who was passing by on his way from work. After some more tea back at the flat my mate left and within half an hour I was back in the pub again with my mate from up the road (it was mate city I can tell you) and yet another old mate who’d just accidentally informed a customer in his shop of the fact they were a ‘fucking freak’. We three were in the right mood for St.Patricks day and Guinness was drunk without mercy until x o clock. A good night indeed, though I actually don’t remember much after I returned home, despite being dimly aware of scribbling on my desk.
After returning from the dreadful meal in Woking we arrived back in London at 4 o clock, my brother his missus and I decided it would be wise to round the evening off in the usual Sunday evening boozer. We had already enjoyed a few glasses of wine with the ‘meal’ so sensibly decided to continue on the red stuff. All of were feeling less than comfortable on account of the leather consumed in the fucking restaurant but we persevered, had a very enjoyable natter and the bright sunny day was gradually replaced by dusk and the beginning of the night.
Early in the evening I took the tube back home. I fell into conversation with a tramp whose face resembled a cauliflower. He wasn’t having a good day, I had no spare change but gave him some tobacco which he immediately rolled and smoked there and then in the carriage. Other passengers decided that it was prudent to not raise objections, this guy had nothing to lose, the poor old sod.
Needless to say today I had a hangover, such was its severity I opted to take the morning off. After writing the blog I went to work, something I was loathed to do but I felt slightly better for having completed the very blog you’re now reading.
