Well things are going pretty good here in Salford! The course continues to be a bit perplexing with its barely comprehensible maths and bearded professionals but aside from that it’s going remarkably well! Saturday was nothing less than a leviathan of a night out! Myself, an esteemed colleague (who wishes to remain anonymous) and his flat mate partook in some birthday festivated, socially orientated and to begin with at least, sensibly motivated drinking in the fine establishments of Manchester City centre’s Northern (chav free) Quarter! The night started well, if a little overpopulated with country and western music, in a bar called Cord, so called for the abundance of corduroy trouser material affixed to the walls. It was a time spent mainly pondering where they had found a country and western DJ and also as to my experience, or lack there off, of a song called “All my ex’s live in Texas”, which my companions seemed to think was essential listening. After a few bottles of Corona Extra, some neat vodka and a visit to the basement of badly placed speakers it was time to move on.
Our next (and last bar) that night was the legendary “Matt and Phred’s!”, a jazz bar of which my companions are members. This fact allowed us to forgo a cold stay outside in the chilly Manchester air and instead be ushered in warmly by a behemoth of a man who we later surmised was exactly 8/3rds our size! After a few dignified hours of intelligent and meaningful conversation on a wide range of topics not necessary including world politics and the state of the empire we decided to increase our alcohol intake and partake of one of the establishments fine tables just in front of the jazz stage. It was here, that latter reflection revealed, our rapid and rather less than dignified fall from the wagon of grace began. The aforementioned downfall was expedited mainly. but not solely by the fact that my companion, (whose birthday we were out to celebrate) was acquainted with one of the bar staff, this provided a gateway into the shady world of extremely generous spirit measures and the manufacturing of rather impressive alcohol fuelled burning edifices to inebriation, (pictures to follow!). Needless to say many Havana Rum and cokes, Gin and tonics, neat vodka on the rocks and some unholy substance called Strogg later the three of us had not only fallen off the wagon of grace but that same wagon had stopped reversed over us several times and then continued on without a hope of us ever catching it again.
You would think at this point that there was little more to this story than a convoluted metaphor, a walk home with a hang over to follow, but you would of course (sadly) be wrong! In the process of our festivities we had managed somehow to ensnare a couple of passing girls, complete with boyfriend and brother. There were other ensnarement's before this point but they involved some misunderstandings with regard to technology, some sharp words directed at the operation of said technology and needless to say some embarrassment on my part! Returning to the girls in question, one (George) was celebrating her 29th birthday a fortunate/unfortunate coincidence, depending on your point of view. The other (Claire), who was here sister no less, was apparently showing her sibling a good time in Manchester. My companion, whose birthday it was, proceeded to talk to George in a swarve and admirably comprehensible way while my other companion endeavoured to do the same with Claire. In the course of his endeavour he decided to purchase a packet of cigarettes and then offer them to the girls, a nice gesture somewhat reduced in positive impact when in trying to light said cigarettes he narrowly missed setting Claire’s face on fire and well as his own nose, possibly to atone for this he then proceeded to purchase a rather expensive bottle of champagne complete with bucket, ice and 5 glasses (skilfully segregating the brother of the two girls and Georges boyfriend in one smoothly executed, if less than premeditated move). It was in the consumption of this champagne that the last of our dignity was beaten out of us as we tumbled down the evolutionary ladder landing somewhere between homo-erectus and faeces flinging ape. This regression was sealed when my companion who had been endeavouring with Claire, fresh from his previous fall from the wagon of grace partook in a decidedly non-metaphorical decent from dignity in the form of a fall from his chair, of which he was quite motionless on moments before. What followed after this point is decidedly blurred and reciting it would be risking inaccuracy but sufficed to say that there was some wrestling, arguments concerning locations of taxi’s, hugging, sleeping on buses, vomiting, a loss of eye sight, accosting of passers-by and a strongly worded argument involving sleeping arrangements.
And that as they say was that, the next morning involved regret beyond precedent, an abundance of fried foodstuffs and an inability to go 5 minuets without remembering another reason never to show our faces again! All in all a wonderful night out!