An Ironic Failure

'Results Night' nights have never been successful. For the 3 years I've been old enough to go "out on Bedford town", to celebrate, (or commiserate) either my or someone else's results, I've ended up going home in a rather disappointed/angry/tired state. Delete as appropriate.

Year 1, when I actually got my results, we ended up going to town quite late, and found out everywhere was full, rammed to the rafters, and consequently all the clubs were not letting in anymore punters. We ended up going for a Subway by midnight before getting a belated taxi home! I wasn't really "celebrating" my results that night. More like "digesting my rubbish attitude".

Year 2, I don't actually remember going out. I don't think it was a case of having too much to drink that I can't remember a thing, more, stuck at another boring night at the "berp". It must of been that. I do constitute this as a fail, as many, many people went out that night, and I believe it was a good one, but I was stuck, albeit with The Capable One, doing the same tasks I do now, at the beginning of another long working week.
Too many commas in that paragraph. Lucky, I never took English as a serious subject. I'm not sure anyone could take English seriously, when it was taught by an American..

So, we come to Year 3. Last night. Most people I know got their desired grades and the night was set up to be a cracker. We convened at Master Beddoe's where much vodka was consumed and we did our best impression of The Inbetweeners dance, in preperation for completely embarrassing ourselves later, amid a large group of stunned onlookers in Chameleon, with only a few knowing what on Earth we were actually doing. It was a laugh, and at that stage, I was really looking forward to the night ahead. I was happy.

Then we arrived at Saints. It had been billed as a 'UV Foam Party' so, naturally, we came more prepared than last time, with Colin and Beddoe sporting horrible-looking Hawaiian shorts, and me wearing a cheap-ish grey top and shorts. Better than destroying a $50 Abercrombie & Fitch shirt and jeans! Except it didn't really happen. You could tell a few people in the party were struggling, having had way too much at pre-drinks, and it all seemed to catch up with them. This, plus the absolutely, stupidly, ridiculously busy nature of Saints, meant that once people had got out of sight, they were gone. There was no way you were ever going to find them again. It was like looking for a needle in the world's supply of haystacks. Beddoe had disappeared, as had Billie and Ellie Goulding, Colin had gone to find some other friends, and Rob, Magic Man and Moo had gone to the bar, and had been there for about 40 minutes, before I gave up looking for everyone. I had just been told Beddoe had gone home, as he had "exceeded his Recommended Daily Allowance" of alcohol, to put it generously. Everyone had spread out, and I was left alone. I felt rather angry.

So I went home. I think in hindsight, this was probably the best thing to do, as drowning whilst very drunk sounds like a form of torture used by the CIA. The taxi driver tried talking to me, but I remember completely blanking him as he chauffered me, first to BP, of which I am thankful for right now as I tuck in to the Chicken Ceasar wrap and cheesecake I bought, before he shipped me home. I may have just chucked some money in the taxi driver's general direction before clambering inside the house, making a lot of noise, and collapsing on my bed. Before the inevitable happened. I won't go any further on that one!

I feel rather fragile this morning/afternoon, but I do feel a productive day coming up. I'm about to leave for a training event at work, where we are being taught how to avoid being stabbed, despite me only being there for another month or so, before I move on to town to sort out my student account for my upcoming adventure, before a possible round of golf this evening, in beautiful sunshine, as we, no doubt, analyse what was still an eventful night, despite its disappointments. I've just figured out, I need to use more full stops in this thing.

Also, before I forget, I would like to congratulate everyone on their results, and if things didn't go your way, just remember me. I turned up to my A-Level IT exam, still drunk from the night before, and I'm still going to university, albeit a bit late. All is not lost! And as I'm on the subject of praising, I would like to mention a certain short-leg fielder who took a fantastic Ian Bell-esque catch last Sunday before being knocked on the helmet! Good work Monty!