May 21st 2017
Today I got back home, tired and hungover, after a boozy weekend in Cheltenham, so please excuse the brevity of this post. I posted my blog uncharacteristically early (7pm) last night because that enabled me to go out and drink freely without having to worry about having to be in a sensible enough state to curate a blog post at 4am when I got back from the nightclub.
It was, however, pointed out to me that in last night’s blog I wrote that you can get ‘a beer, chips and a pint’ for a fiver in Wetherspoons when I meant to write ‘a burger, chips and a pint’. Personally, I prefer the first option so I’m not going to go to the effort of changing it.
It might sound daft, the thought of me anxiously hesitant of drinking because it might affect the state of my blog for the day, but that’s pretty much how it works. I find that I’m… limited, because I have to stay conscious enough to be able to write a blog at the end of the night.
Last night, I skipped that worry and uploaded one at 7pm. As it turns out, I would’ve been in a perfectly fine state to write one when I returned to the hotel at 4am, there just may have been a few more spelling mistakes than usual.
It was a good night. I got drunker than I usually do, and so did the rest of the group. I won’t go into specifics.
They’re a good group of lads.
Today, after we’d checked out and had walked back to the cars, Spence (bottom left, real name ‘Louis’) said something accidentally profound (wrong word but I’m going with it).
We were saying goodbye, handshakes and hugs, and he said to me “See you in another three months Norm”.
The last time I saw Spence was about three months ago – on the last group night out we did. This group aren’t the kind of friends that I phone up on a Saturday to go and shoot the shit with, we only really see each other if we’ve planned an event or a birthday or something.
But we get together after three months of radio silence and we’re all best friends again. I think that’s a guy thing. I don’t speak to my friends often, I don’t text ‘how are you doing?’, and I tend to avoid group chats, so these occasions are the only times where I speak to them. But it’s great. They’re all individually wonderful people.
I’d probably class Spence as like… my 7th or 8th closest friend in the entire world, and I don’t even have his phone number. Typing that makes it sound sad and depressing, but it isn’t really. That’s just how my social circles operate. And it works for me.
Until tomorrow, see you in another three months.