A quiet weekend at home.
It was a typical weekend in my book. Friday started of with a few innocent beers down the pub. Was quite nice, glossing over the last week of work, and realising that I'd gone into this very pub, and sat in the same stool, every night for the last week. A home away from home you could say.
Then a pal of mine "Curly" made the typical Friday night suggestion. "Let's get a nose bag!" From there, things always seem to get out of hand. Well, round my way they do. He went off to get supplies. Meanwhile another friend "Dobber" popped in and told me of his new job, which was going to start next week, and the fact that he was going to be drug tested, so he had to be a good boy. This roughly translates as lets go on a bEnder of epic proportions. What could I do? Go home? Say no? Be responsible? I decided to join him. For moral support of course.
We went off to get supplies. Met up with "Curly" and went back to the pub, fully loaded and ready for action. "Dobber" decided that things we're going a bit slow, so he decided to double the dose. Soon enough, he realised that he should of waited a wee bit more. Ha ha. "Dobber" is a looney at the best of times, (with a heart of gold) but with this added enhancement well, he had me in tears. I then noticed my flatmate and a whole bunch of his friends pour into the pub. That can only mean one thing. Back to mine later. I don't usually have people back to mine, mainly because of the size of the place, and that there is far too many really expensive things that can be broken. And usually with my bunch of mates something usually gets broken.
Anyway "the girls" showed up at the pub and things we're in full swing. I think I must have been abducted by aliens at this point, because all I can remember is being on my couch, and it's early morning. "Curly" had gone for more supplies, and I had given "Dobber" a hospital gown to wear. (Read this to see how I aquired the gown.) That, and I noticed quite a few bottles of Buckfast lying around. Uh oh. Buckfast has an insane amount of caffiene, that coupled with all the other bits and pieces makes for a rather hyperactive time.
Like finding 101 uses for a colander, "dobber" trying to climb trees, turning a pestle into a unicorns horn, using a triangle into a stirrup, using the colander as a helmet, and a little plastic model of the Seattle tower as a lance and having jousts in my living room. That was pale compared to my amazement listening to "Dobber". He had the best stream of wasted rubbish I've ever seen coming out of someones craw. You had to be there. It was simply incredible.
Fast forward to my turn to get supplies. I was cruising down Brixton water lane and who should I see popping out of a dodgy housing estate. Shaun Ryder. We crossed paths. I thought to myself. That's Shaun Ryder. He looked back. he hopped into a waiting car and drove in the same direction. I kept on looking at him, and he kept on looking back at me. I stopped at the lights, and so did his car. I then did a tiny bit of freaky dancing - Bez style. He smiled. I smiled. Then I turned round to see a bus load of people looking at me with the "Isn't Brixton full of nutters look." Fuck it. It was worth it.
Next thing I remember it was 4pm and my front room looked like a five year old's bedroom, apart from all the booze, ciggies, spliffs, colanders, cheese graters, strainers, pots, and other assorted goodies strewn all over the place. We cleaned up and went to a mates BBQ. Found a couch, and got stuck into some rum for a few hours. Slowly a few people showed up, and a good BBQ was in full swing. It was a really nice way to end a day.
Highlights of the BBQ were rediscovering Teenage Fanclub, and mainly the song, "What you do to me." Which is two minutes of power pop heaven. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. Finding a toy chihuahua, the birthday boy and myself getting mistaken for Starsky and Hutch (see above. The resemblence is uncanny) and wearing the loudest cardigan ever. It rocked. Eventually got home at 3.00am and slept till late afternoon.
Spent till late afternoon, slowly cleaning my gaff, to get some sense of normality back into my life. Got a call from my "Battersea Boy". He came down for a visit, and we went back to the pub for a few quiet drinks. A few turned into a lot. I switched from beer to rum, which was a bad move. You drink twice as much. It was quite a nice time though.
Then Scribe walks in. (he's quite a well known rapper in NZ, who is on tour at the moment.) I have met him a few times and we exchanged the ol' raised eyebrow greeting. Started to thin out later in the night, and I went to the loo, and found a battery and a fan on the floor. Don't ask me why, or how it got there, but there it was. I put the two of them together and bingo! It worked. I then sauntered over to were Scribe was sitting and popped down the fan in front of him, proclaiming "Here's you're biggest fan". He replied "it's not very big". I replied "We'll it's still a fan." Priceless. You had to be there. It was a hoot. The pub closed soon after and I stumbled home about midnight, and eventually got to bed. I woke, well rested and ready to combat another working week.
* The names are changed to protect the guilty.