Grumph…

March 21, 2006

A typical St Patricks day ended with me arguing about the loch ness monster and passing out on my friends floor. Next morning I awoke with a piece of jam toast stuck to my head gasping for water - I tried to cancel the rest of the day and settled in watching Soccer Am and betting money I don’t have on the afternoon footie.

Sure enough I was lured out again that evening to waste more money in the megatouch machine, witness appalling mixing at the local pub dance music extravaganza and observe how chavvy, loud, bug-eyed blokes excel at making this village the last place on earth that single women with an ounce of sense would go anywhere near. The evening ends with bad take-away munch and too much vodka at a mates place.

UK small town village life pretty much plays out to this tune on a weekly basis and it doesn’t really take you anywhere outside the comfort zone that’s so easy to slip into - before I know it I’ll be 29 heading to 30 getting fatter and duller by the day - I need to get myself down the gym, save some money, get my flat sorted and start trying to do more than grin inanely at the opposite sex.

Spo | March 21, 2006