Ah, memories..

I’ve had a strange few days.
An old friend from uni called to say he was in town and should we meet up? We did.
Since our last time together he’s developed a 48-inch waist and a cocaine habit. The first I can sympathise with, the second I can’t. I find it hard to enjoy someone’s company when they’re constantly nipping off to the toilet, wiping powder from their nose, or talking incessant drivel about nothing. I found an excuse to leave at 9, leaving him sitting in ‘The Golden Phoenix’ with wide eyes and a red nose.
Drugs were something I never got into at university. Casual sex, yes. Heavy drinking – certainly. But blowing a large part of my student loan on amphetamine mixed with fish pellets was never my idea of recreational jollity.
I was offered acid at our Freshers Ball, but declined. I had no intention of putting something in my mouth that sounded like it might burn my arse on the way out.

Seeing Carl again brought back some ugly memories, mostly involving alcohol and (ugly) women. Mandy was the pick of the bunch – sweaty, gap-toothed and bigger than me, which is saying something – but she was only one of many awful, awful encounters. After any given midnight, I seemed to become a Magnet For Munters.
I wonder how many mornings I spent embarrassingly extricating myself from the grasp of some acne-ridden rotund gargoyle? And I wonder how many of them say exactly the same thing about me…

RC 30-9-08
1945 BST