As usual, my inability to organise anything or sort myself out in any meaningful way has ended with me landing nicely on my feet. For all the complaints I make about life, liberty and fruit of the loom being shit, I am often on the receiving end of lucky breaks. Not all the time – it’s not like things are anything like perfect – but it does seem that a noticeable amount of times I don’t bother trying and things sort themselves out nicely for me.
See, I’d all but given up yesterday – people were suffering from the night before, fair enough blah-de-blah. So I’d resigned myself to sitting in my pants, eating Chinese food and watching both Clerks films. I was about 20 minutes into the original and half a plate into my banquet when I received a phonecall, indicating young Benjamin and his ladyfriend Hayley had made their way to Bournemouth without announcing they were coming.
It’s called a ‘surprise’, apparently.
Anyway, a bit of confusion, some quick getting dressed and rushing out to meet them was followed up by a night that – while not hitting the heights of pier-jumping for stand-out moments – was a considerable pleasant experience from start to late, late finish. Apart from the part where I agreed to sleep on my own bloody sofa.
Sitting in a booth and judging everyone in the pub quite openly, receiving free wine, helping people through their debilitating shin-related diseases, taking someone to their first ever rock club, JAEGER BOMBS, dancing like a twat, marvelling at one very good fancy dress costume, watching girls practice their pole dancing (purely for scientifical reasons, natch), something in iBar, Karaoke, being the DJs best friend and not really knowing why (he specifically requested Ben and I sing the closing song of the night), something else at iBar, back for remaining Chinese.
Good night. And on that bombshell, I’m knackered. Good night.