#oneaday, Day 15: Regression

I’m of the firm belief that you should never apologise for something you’ve written, particularly during something like a #oneaday challenge, because it comes from the heart. It comes from within you, reflects what you’re actually feeling or thinking about and is, basically, something that shows who you are and what you’re thinking. That sort of makes sense.

To clarify: I have been drinking quite a bit and as such this post may not be the most coherent thing in the world. But I make not apologies for this as drinking is fun, in moderation.

To whit, I went out with an old friend tonight; my friend Woody, who is someone I went to school with. I didn’t get to know him, really, until I got into Sixth Form, when we spent a lot of time each lunchtime playing Uno, eating cheese and bacon baguettes and playing a bit more Uno. But since that time, we’ve stayed in touch and occasionally gone out to get a bit drunk.

Tonight was one such occasion. I haven’t had the opportunity to go out and get pissed for quite some time. Actually, that’s not quite accurate. The last time I went out to get pissed was New Year’s Eve, during which time I managed to drink a lot and somehow spectacularly failed to get drunk whatsoever. This may have been something to do with the amount of Kinect gaming that took place during that time. Dance Central, it seems, is a suitable antidote to drinking.

Tonight, though, was another matter. Plied with Sambuca and beer prior to going out to the delightful pubs of Cambourne (imaginatively named due to its geographical proximity to both Cambridge and Bourne), we drank quite a bit and reminisced about the good old days.

As you get older, the opportunities to do something along these lines get more and more infrequent, so it’s worth taking them when you can. Because sometimes, there’s nothing better than sitting down with a good friend, chatting about days gone by, remembering times you’d got intoxicated on substances of your choice and the silly things that had occurred as a result of said intoxication.

Woody, incidentally, is someone who has managed to remain all but invisible to the Internet, which is something of an achievement in this day and age. But you might say that makes the memories I have with him all the more precious, as the only record of his existence I have these days are the few photos I have of him now. Most of which involve being drunk.

The UK has a drinking problem, it’s clear from just walking down any big city high street on a Friday night. But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s nice to spend some time with a friend getting off your tits and having a good laugh about days gone by.

That’s what happened tonight. And I hope it happens more often.