Better Out Than In.

Well, that was fun! I must do it again some time - like, the next time Hell freezes over.
Things had been getting on top of old Pither and so he decided to get a different perspective on life. As is his way, he decided his predicament was best looked at through the bottom of a glass!
I took the decision to have a livener when a call to ales came from soon-to-move-to-Orkney chum yesterday. He was in the neighbourhood and wondered if I fancied popping out for a dry sherry at lunchtime. It seemed like a sensible idea at the time - two old pals thrashing out the problems with the world (and themselves) over a couple of foaming ales in front of a roaring pub fire - a sort of cross between Smith and Jones doing a head-to-head and Stadtler and Waldorf from The Muppets!


To be honest, I should have smelt a rat when my pal turned up - carrying a sleeping bag! (honestly!) Anyway, when I finally got home from our little outing I glanced at what seemed like my four watches and noticed it was..................3am!!!!!! Oh...my...God!!! That's what I call lunch. To say things got a little out of hand is like saying the Elephant Man would not have made a particularly good Avon representative.
We had ended up in Small Town which, like all towns, becomes Chav Central after 8pm. Things are pretty much a blurr but I do recall one place we visited was hosting a karaoke night. Have you ever heard a 23 stone, paralytic, sweaty oaf with beer stains down his shirt (no, not me) singing I Will Survive? It's an experience, let's just leave it at that. I think irony was lost on him.
A lot of the bars had notices up outside declaring that there was a strict dress code. Judging by the people inside, I'd love to have seen the fine print of those codes - "Men must wear a tie (around their waist) and a jacket (donkey variety). Ladies should wear some kind of cotton postage stamp and the management insists on them getting their baps out at any available opportunity - knickers forbidden."
We finally lurched into a vodka bar and spent a delightful hour knocking back chocolate, peppermint and chewing gum-flavoured (seriously!!) shots until whatever it was that had been in our systems was well and truly out.
Back at Pither Towers it was too late to order the normally obligatory curry and so we watched Python and Ripping Yarns until we both fell asleep in our respective armchairs - that's a full working day, lad!!
Anyway, considering the excesses of the night before, I don't feel too bad today. Soon-to-move-to-Orkney chum is still here - oh, how his wife will laaarf when he finally gets home - and I am preparing to do some work. As Peter Sellers said in the marvellous Balham, Gateway to the South, "It does you good to have a fling occasionally."
What can be Granthamed from this little experience? I think it has to be people who insist on growing old with grace and dignity.