After my first week of work at a new job I was looking forward to a fun weekend. And what perfect timing, as it just happened to be the first Saturday of the month, which means only one thing: Rock Night! At the infamous Crown and Treaty.
During the day I’d been shopping with my sister and Mum and bought an awesome new pair of boots that I was planning to wear that evening. Yes, I’d been at work one week and I was already spending money I didn’t have yet, but I thought I deserved a treat after my hard work. Although I was slightly tired, I was very much looking forward to the night ahead. A friend who I hadn’t seen since Christmas time was coming out and I’d missed her loads.
I was extremely pleased that my father had agreed to give me a lift into town that evening. I definitely would not have enjoyed the experience of waiting around for a bus whilst the wind continuously raped my hair, which, by the way, looked rather amazing that night, as I’d just dyed it and also had my fringe cut the day before.
Once I’d met one of my friends, we made our way to the first pub of the night. It was then that she reminded me of what had occurred exactly one year ago. A lot of shit went down that night. Cheating, drugs, fights, lost bags and a lot of tears. I’m sure you can gather that it didn’t end well at all. It made me think about how much I’ve changed over the past year. Back then I was a complete mess and the simplest way to describe my actions is as reckless and I was pretty much a complete twat. And now? Well, I may get a little too drunk every now and then, but I’ve definitely grown up and I couldn’t be happier. I was certain that nothing of that sort would happen this time around.
Whenever we go to Rock Night we always go somewhere else first as the drinks are ridiculously overpriced, considering it’s not exactly an upmarket place. What better place to go than a Wetherspoons. So we got the first few drinks in; double Vodka and DIET coke. If it’s not diet, I ain’t drinking it.
An hour and a half and 3 drinks later we were ready to leave. After bumping into a few old school friends and taking the only sober pictures of the night, we had to make a move. This left us 10 minutes to get to the pub before we had to pay. The amount of times we’ve left late and had to literally run down the road, you’d think we’d learn and apparently this night we did!
Straight to bar and then straight outside to find our friends.
As usual I headed to my boyfriend first. Then there was the few minutes of nomming each other until I realised we weren’t alone and I should probably go and say hello to some other people. I had plenty more time in the night for public displays of affection with my other half, so I tore myself away and made the rounds.
It’s at this point where things become a bit hazy. I know certain things that happened, but in what order and involving who is slightly harder to recall. I usually find that it’s the completely irrelevant and obscure details of a night out that I remember, but I’ll try my best to piece everything together into something readable.
At some point during the night there was a big commotion involving my best friend and her boyfriend. I’m not entirely sure how the whole matter arose but it ended up with concerned discussions with multiple people and them both leaving. I wish I could remember more of this incident, as I get the feeling it lasted for a very long period of time and was quite a serious issue, but for some reason my alcohol infused mind decided not to store it somewhere safe within my head. However, it did choose to keep the image of my boyfriend grabbing my boob and then myself grabbing his balls in response locked away in there. Why wouldn’t I want to remember such a thing.
Amongst laying on pool tables, putting make up on my male friends and attempting to dance to music I’ve never heard before, we took many useless pictures. My boyfriend described them as “messy”. I must say I think my photography skills are usually satisfactory. I do tend to fob off my camera on someone else when I get bored though. This, I’ve learnt, is probably not the best idea.
I was inside when I realised I hadn’t seen my camera floating about in a while. So I asked the last person I believed to have it, where it was. They didn’t know; shit. So off I went to seek it out. I should probably mention now that I have lost my camera in the past. Therefore, I think it’s pretty understandable that the prospect of not knowing the whereabouts of my most valued possession gets me quite worried. I ran over to where I had previously been sitting and announced to its occupants that I couldn’t find my camera. I’m pleased to say that everyone began to look, me most frantic of all. It was nowhere to be seen. It was at this point that I realised I hadn’t actually looked in my bag. Oh. Hesitantly, I revealed the location of my camera and told everyone it was ok, I’d had it all along.
It was only towards the end of the night that my boyfriends’ drunken state was brought to my attention. I took the liberty of deciding we needed to leave. I think I was secretly enjoying the fact that for once he was more drunk than I was and probably went a bit overboard in wanting to look after him. I have to hand it to him though, he is probably the easiest drunk person I’ve dealt with, I wish the same could be said about me.
To the kebab shop! Chicken and chips, smothered in mayonnaise, a deterrent of sorts, to make sure no one tries to eat any as it looks rather off-putting.
Off we went in our cab, with a quick stop to get fags which resulted in a cuddly teddy bear being purchased. I can’t remember if we gave him a name or not. I’ll have to source this information and let you know next time.
As soon as we got in we went straight to bed. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do remember being kneed in the bum numerous times and almost pushed out of my single bed by the boyf, having to cling onto the side to avoid falling into the pit of my room. There’s definitely a reason behind it being named “single”. It doesn’t help that he’s over 6ft and can’t actually lay completely flat in it. At least he didn’t elbow me in the head this time though, the more commonly used form of abuse.
All in all I had a good night. However, my friend who had to leave early and I have both decided that February Rock Night isn’t the most successful. Last years ended in devastation for me and this years didn’t exactly bring an enjoyable time for her. I think it’s safe to say we’ll give next February a miss. But bring on next month!
During the day I’d been shopping with my sister and Mum and bought an awesome new pair of boots that I was planning to wear that evening. Yes, I’d been at work one week and I was already spending money I didn’t have yet, but I thought I deserved a treat after my hard work. Although I was slightly tired, I was very much looking forward to the night ahead. A friend who I hadn’t seen since Christmas time was coming out and I’d missed her loads.
I was extremely pleased that my father had agreed to give me a lift into town that evening. I definitely would not have enjoyed the experience of waiting around for a bus whilst the wind continuously raped my hair, which, by the way, looked rather amazing that night, as I’d just dyed it and also had my fringe cut the day before.
Once I’d met one of my friends, we made our way to the first pub of the night. It was then that she reminded me of what had occurred exactly one year ago. A lot of shit went down that night. Cheating, drugs, fights, lost bags and a lot of tears. I’m sure you can gather that it didn’t end well at all. It made me think about how much I’ve changed over the past year. Back then I was a complete mess and the simplest way to describe my actions is as reckless and I was pretty much a complete twat. And now? Well, I may get a little too drunk every now and then, but I’ve definitely grown up and I couldn’t be happier. I was certain that nothing of that sort would happen this time around.
Whenever we go to Rock Night we always go somewhere else first as the drinks are ridiculously overpriced, considering it’s not exactly an upmarket place. What better place to go than a Wetherspoons. So we got the first few drinks in; double Vodka and DIET coke. If it’s not diet, I ain’t drinking it.
An hour and a half and 3 drinks later we were ready to leave. After bumping into a few old school friends and taking the only sober pictures of the night, we had to make a move. This left us 10 minutes to get to the pub before we had to pay. The amount of times we’ve left late and had to literally run down the road, you’d think we’d learn and apparently this night we did!
Straight to bar and then straight outside to find our friends.
As usual I headed to my boyfriend first. Then there was the few minutes of nomming each other until I realised we weren’t alone and I should probably go and say hello to some other people. I had plenty more time in the night for public displays of affection with my other half, so I tore myself away and made the rounds.
It’s at this point where things become a bit hazy. I know certain things that happened, but in what order and involving who is slightly harder to recall. I usually find that it’s the completely irrelevant and obscure details of a night out that I remember, but I’ll try my best to piece everything together into something readable.
At some point during the night there was a big commotion involving my best friend and her boyfriend. I’m not entirely sure how the whole matter arose but it ended up with concerned discussions with multiple people and them both leaving. I wish I could remember more of this incident, as I get the feeling it lasted for a very long period of time and was quite a serious issue, but for some reason my alcohol infused mind decided not to store it somewhere safe within my head. However, it did choose to keep the image of my boyfriend grabbing my boob and then myself grabbing his balls in response locked away in there. Why wouldn’t I want to remember such a thing.
Amongst laying on pool tables, putting make up on my male friends and attempting to dance to music I’ve never heard before, we took many useless pictures. My boyfriend described them as “messy”. I must say I think my photography skills are usually satisfactory. I do tend to fob off my camera on someone else when I get bored though. This, I’ve learnt, is probably not the best idea.
I was inside when I realised I hadn’t seen my camera floating about in a while. So I asked the last person I believed to have it, where it was. They didn’t know; shit. So off I went to seek it out. I should probably mention now that I have lost my camera in the past. Therefore, I think it’s pretty understandable that the prospect of not knowing the whereabouts of my most valued possession gets me quite worried. I ran over to where I had previously been sitting and announced to its occupants that I couldn’t find my camera. I’m pleased to say that everyone began to look, me most frantic of all. It was nowhere to be seen. It was at this point that I realised I hadn’t actually looked in my bag. Oh. Hesitantly, I revealed the location of my camera and told everyone it was ok, I’d had it all along.
It was only towards the end of the night that my boyfriends’ drunken state was brought to my attention. I took the liberty of deciding we needed to leave. I think I was secretly enjoying the fact that for once he was more drunk than I was and probably went a bit overboard in wanting to look after him. I have to hand it to him though, he is probably the easiest drunk person I’ve dealt with, I wish the same could be said about me.
To the kebab shop! Chicken and chips, smothered in mayonnaise, a deterrent of sorts, to make sure no one tries to eat any as it looks rather off-putting.
Off we went in our cab, with a quick stop to get fags which resulted in a cuddly teddy bear being purchased. I can’t remember if we gave him a name or not. I’ll have to source this information and let you know next time.
As soon as we got in we went straight to bed. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do remember being kneed in the bum numerous times and almost pushed out of my single bed by the boyf, having to cling onto the side to avoid falling into the pit of my room. There’s definitely a reason behind it being named “single”. It doesn’t help that he’s over 6ft and can’t actually lay completely flat in it. At least he didn’t elbow me in the head this time though, the more commonly used form of abuse.
All in all I had a good night. However, my friend who had to leave early and I have both decided that February Rock Night isn’t the most successful. Last years ended in devastation for me and this years didn’t exactly bring an enjoyable time for her. I think it’s safe to say we’ll give next February a miss. But bring on next month!
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