27 October 2017 (Friday) - On The Sauce
I had a rather restless night. Usually I have no problem getting to sleep; staying asleep is the problem. But last night, nice-next-door were (rather noisily) “doing the dirty deed”. After quite a lot of screaming and grunting there was a strange crash, and things went quiet. Either they were done, or the wardrobe had collapsed. I didn’t like to enquire.
And then the puppy spent much of the night stomping about all over me.
I got up just before 5.30am and over brekkie watched an old episode of “Red Dwarf” in which Ace Rimmer appeared for the first time. A classic !
I then sparked up the lap-top. It took a little while for Firefox to install its updates (a bit like me, really). For once there didn’t seem to be many arguments happening on-line; after yesterday’s rant I was pleased about that. And on seeing there were no emails not destined for the waste bin I set off to work.
Being on an early shift I left home very early. The stars were beautiful at half past six this morning.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about the revelation that people who like Shakespeare get so worked up about it that watching one of his plays gets their heart going like it does for everyone else when having a workout on a treadmill.
I'm not sure I believe this, but until our old friend Science says otherwise, I shall take this as yet another reason to sit on my bum and watch telly.
There was also a lot of talk about the scandal in the Australian parliament in which half a dozen elected officials have been removed from office as they have dual citizenship. Apparently you can't stand for Australian office with dual citizenship, but several people have done so; claiming they had no idea they were citizens of two countries.
How could you not know that?
I got to work and the night shift was glad to see me. Or not so much glad to see me as glad that they could go home. I took the emergency bleep (don't like having that!) and did my bit. During the course of doing my bit the gusset of my trousers exploded, which was something of a nuisance. I don't think anyone noticed, which was probably for the best, but things were a tad drafty "down below" for much of the day.
As I'd stepped into the breach (as it were) last Friday night I had some time owing to me, so I slipped out an hour early. I hadn't intended going straight home, but I needed functional trousers. I tried not to disturb the dogs too much, and soon I was on my way to the railway station and on to Folkestone where I met Jimbo and Stevey. Stevey didn’t hang about long, he was going back to Ashford and on to the astro club, but me and Jimbo went on to the Firkin. An old favourite; they’ve moved premises to next door.
We had three pints before moving on to another ale house; the Bouverie Tap. I’d not been there before; not too shabby at all. But by then we were hungry, and when hungry there is only one place to go.
Over the road from McDonalds was a new drinking venue; the Rum Clinic. I’d not been there before. I won’t go back again. It was staffed by immoral young ladies who preyed on the likes of me. They flaunted their ample charms until we’d paid out nearly a tenner for two halves of lager at which point they put their tits away.
We didn’t stay long there.
On to Kipps for a pint, and then a kebab and back to the railway station. I said goodbye to Jimbo, and on finding I’d just missed the train I scoffed my kebab and watched “love’s young dream” snogging on platform one until the Dover train arrived.
In a novel break with tradition I stayed awake all the way home…