Over the last few days I’ve had a serious blockage when it comes to blogging. I’ve found every review I try to write comes out as if I let my dogs type with their paws. So I thought I might go for a more traditional blog post of writing about something that’s happening to me, perhaps to entertain the illusion that my life is vaguely interesting.
So last night I spent roughly five hours in a pub in Nottingham, I won’t tell you which pub in someone identifies me and complains about my ‘activity’ last night. I also spent roughly £60, mostly on Fosters, Estrella and spiced rum and coke (a friend of mine loves that crap). We sat, the six of us outside, starting off as usual with the normal hellos and joking. Then came the light sabers.
A guy I know, wouldn’t call him a friend but I know him, had just bought a pair of dueling sabers and, god only knows why, had brought them to the pub.
To say I’m a huge Star Wars fan would be an understatement. Along with having four pints of Australian beer in me plus some identifiable alcohol a friend gave me, it seemed like a great idea to re-enact the battle of Mustafar in the smoking area of a city pub. Whilst it’s raining cats and dogs.
Five minutes later the cook, a man in his forties so muscled he could probably pick up an X-wing with ease, came out for his smoke break. Turns out he’s also a massive Star Wars fan and took over from my opponent. It transcends that in the pub we were in the entire staff are huge Star Wars fans and we had inadvertently ended all business transactions for that night. As the two ladies at the bar and the cook and his staff all decided to have light saber duels in the rain. We got a few free drinks out of this so it’s alright.
Now you’re probably imagining that this ended in the wee hours of the morning. No, at the stroke of nine we all decided we needed chips. So hiked off along the canal, all six of us very drunk, to the chippy. Obviously anyone from the UK will know that chippy’s at night just attract drunk people, like moths to a flame. So at nine thirteen exactly, don’t ask why I remember the time so well, we all appeared in the chippy and spent a further £30 between us. We then proceeded to go and see some friends nearby. Who are all from a Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA) club.
Myself being the lightweight that I am was very drunk at this point, the copious amount of chips in me doing nothing to soak up the alcohol. This is where the details get a little bit fuzzy. So to sum up: ax, fight, lose shield, opponent loses spear, headlock, rolling on the floor to grab my ax. Blah blah blah. I then find myself on the bus on the way home. Living as I do in the arse end of nowhere, I have to go home from town fairly early, half ten.
So to sum up I shouldn’t be allowed to get drunk in public, I stop commerce in pubs, raid chip shops and get into fights against Vikings.
I may do more blogs like this but seeing as my life isn’t very eventful these will most likely be few and far between, I hope you’ve enjoyed my account of drunkeness (that’s a word now).
Sam, a very hungover version of my usual self.