Follow The Leader

I find myself in the apparent silence of Putnoe Library once more, just like I was this time last year, due to a disappointing and expensive problem with our internet service provider, (or if you're Stuart Baggs 'The Brand', our "ISP"), and I have been desperate to bloggle since the frustration of Saturday and the frankly annoying afternoon I experienced yesterday. It's safe to say then, I have had better weekends.

After the longest morning in living history on Saturday, where I spent 8 hours putting things out for people to buy, without any consideration of how much hard work had been put into it, I found out that cricket had been called off due to the Vietnamese like monsoons that we experienced all morning, so thought that I would get a few hours much needed kip in preperation for what was surely going to be an epic night. A joint 21st birthday, surrounded by people with an eccentric and frankly strange sense of humour? What could possibly go wrong?

Well, at about 7pm, obviously nothing. I went to the cash point, the 'Hole In The Wall', the ATM, whatever you will call it these days, and withdrew £20. Except I didn't. The machine gave me £30 instead, and despite me quite clearly clicking on '20', it gave me a tenner more. I have since checked, and my account has been de-credited 30. Oh well. I then went on to buy a small(ish) bottle of Chekov, (Yeah, I use brand names now, get used to it!), and then for some reason, decided to go into a shop and buy a £2 scratchcard. Why not? I went back to the car, 1p coin in hand, and scratched away. 'Winner'.... 'Winner'.... 'Winner'.... 'Winner'... I had won £30, and this, plus the £21 I had remaining meant I was going to enjoy a rather good night. Things were looking up.

As myself and Master Kettle made our way to Watty's for "Pre Wennys", (1), we discussed many things, such as the new and last Harry Potter film, (which was of course, incredible), and a particular Hawker's inability to pick up the concept of punctuality. On arrival, we found a gaggle of people situated in the back garden to begin celebrations, and a massive game of 'Ring of Cya' (2), began in earnest before it ended with Master Kettle seeing off the King of All Dirty Pints, as he usually has to when the game is played at Watty's, and then I think I may have despatched a extra cover drive over the garden fence for a huge 6 before the arrival of all the taxis.

This is where things turned a bit rubbish. The pre-arranged meeting place was Bankers, which is as dull as watching Geoffrey Boycott, and drinks aren't exactly on the cheap side. As Honks' found out when he ordered a cup of tea... (3)! A few more people turned up, wearing their '21' t-shirts that had been proudly designed by the birthday boys, (even if they did mis-spell 'Mitten'...), and as everyone started to sink lower and lower into their drinking trousers, I just had that funny feeling that this night wasn't going to be like the nights I have recently experienced. This was just going to be your average night out on Bedford town, no hot tubs, no water, no bouncy castle boxing ring... No hawkers...

I lie actually, because even if a pair of Hawkers were away getting malformed in Norfolk, I did see a hawker out with his friends, Mr Mason, but I hardly saw him again. After Bankers, we had a brief stay in Chameleon, which is somewhere I would have preferred to stay for a bit longer, seeing as drinks are as cheap as penny sweets, and the atmosphere is always loud. Not before long though, we were on our way to Saints. Or was it The Rose? Or maybe Litten Tree? No, this is not me being wasted, this is the massive indecision and stupidness of going to random places. With the Hawkers, everyone agrees on places with no word of an argument or discussion. With this lot, it took us 20 minutes to decide on where to go, and trying to round everyone up, like shepherds trying to round up sheep. It was exasperatingly frustrating. In the end, we managed to get everyone around and agreed on Saints, after a bit of shouting from me, and before we knew it, we were in. For free, thanks to Kenco's weird queue jump thing.

As soon as we stepped foot inside, everyone went haywire. A small group went left, a small group went outside, a small group went to the dancefloor, some of us hitched up the bar, and a small number were still outside. Answer me this. How, oh How, are you supposed to enjoy a night out when you spend literally the whole time chasing around for other people? Everyone was trying to look for each other, and in a club that was packed to the rafters, like sardines in an especially small tin can, that is nearly impossible. And when a select number of these people didn't really know their own location and kept wandering off to nowhere, it becomes stupid. After an hour and a half of being in this place, (about 10 minutes of which was spent dancing, and 30 minutes stood waiting for a drink), I had had enough. Why should I waste my time going on a search and rescue mission and playing 'Follow The Leader', when I could be at home catching up on lost sleep in time for work the following afternoon. I was so frustrated, and it's a shame it ended like it did. Getting a taxi home at 1.30am, alone.

Work yesterday was of the very average kind, but right now, I'm being pressured to get off this library computer as I have spent an hour talking to you. And seeing as one of these people is of the particularly large variety, I suppose I'd better leave you to it.