Monday 30 May 2011

Pile on!

I had envisioned a quiet weekend. I was going to get some bottles and sit in with Seven Samurai on Friday. I can't imagine what would have happened, I guess I would have upset one of them during the tea ceremony and would be left with a house slashed to pieces by katanas. But this was not to be, Kirky asked me at work if I'd like to go for a few quiet drinks with him and his mate Ed. I agreed but decided to only have a couple at most. I'm a bit skint until this coming Thursday. I have just changed back to my old job and am waiting on the last payment from the University and the first payment from the present company. I'm also waiting on payment from Hull University, so last week has been a bit tight, but I will be as a rich as a king by the end of this one. So with this in mind, I thought a couple of pints wouldn't hurt the coffers too much. Problem is, I can very rarely have a couple of pints. As was the case here. I got drunk and during lulls in the conversation filled the awkward silences with graphic descriptions of Wolf Bagging, whilst Sarah, Ed's other half, was eating. Speaking of which, she was having Rarebit, the culinary experience of the Welsh (besides fucking leeks). It's cheese on toast. Cheese on fucking toast. Cheese on Toast that costs the better part of £10. How the fuck does that happen? But that's the Welsh for you. Summed up in one culinary experience. Boring.


Ten quid for that? You must be fucking joking!

Then on Saturday Logan Josh summoned me to his side. It appeared he was getting bored with his present company (or more likely, they with him...) and needed a new target for his vitriol. I met him as the last of his previous group were bidding him a lusty adieu and I continued as the previous evening's theme had demanded. We spent many an hour in the Golden Slipper discussing the finer points of the Kriegsmarine. Again, I soon found myself stumbling through the lonely streets of York, broke and drunk. This is beginning to become a habit, I thought. Or at least I think I did. I don't remember what I was thinking. Too drunk, see.


I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody

Then to round off the Bank Holiday weekend the Great Apes of Huntington threw open their cage and invited all and sundry for a barbecue. I began drinking at three in the afternoon and didn't stop for nearly another twelve hours. During this time, one of Logan and Mrs Josh's more boorish friends, Paul, lambasted me the entire time. We argued about the Pogues' version of The Band Played Waltzing Matilda (I bested him with a quickly thought out argument about tin hats not being issued to the British Army before 1916. One to me.), we argued about the location of Brinsworth and it's position next to the M1. We argued about a great many things, most of which I barely remember. I think he likes me. He even revealed that he was writing my biography and was only at the party to make further notes. Apparently, I'm from Brinsworth and not Whiston, as I had always thought. A large amount of the afternoon was also spent acquiring meatstroke, by forcing as much animal product into my gaping maw as possible.


'Oh God, someone else is wearing the same outfit as me!'

Later on, I spent some of the night admiring Josh's record collection, his Geoff Love album was a thing of beauty. I have never seen one in such good condition. He's a lucky, lucky man. Mrs Josh battered the survivors of the outside party with shots of Eau de Vie, it seems she'd syphoned off a tractor in rural France and presented it to us as an alcoholic beverage. I woke up in their spare bedroom with their snores and farts from next door rattling the walls as though I was in Dresden during Bomber Harris' redecoration of the place. This morning found us wading our way through yet more meaty goodness that was leftover from the previous evening. A great hangover cure.


Breakfast's ready...

I forgot to mention this in the previous entry about Triples. On the bring and buy stall we found EBay, the Card Game. I think it speaks for itself. Right, I'm off to see if I can find a copy on EBay...