Friday 27 November 2015

bon voyage

So, as my first term at uni drives to a close, I've finished all my lectures, tutorials and assignments and I'm free to pack up and return home whenever I like. 

I'm lucky enough to have my car with me, so here at uni I'm totally independent but for some reason I find myself booking up my time and trying to find reasons not to leave. 

And I feel guilty, I've had my mum on the phone for the past few days, wondering when I'll be home and I've just been making up excuses about important things that 'need to be done' before I can go home (which is a load of rubbish).

But the truth is, I've made so many great friends here, and even though Buckingham is a small town, I've never found myself being sat around being bored with nothing to do. There's always someone or something going on. 

For example, the other night I was planning on spending a nice night in having a well over due Netflix marathon, with no make on, in my pyjamas and a nice cup of tea. But, shock horror, I didn't have any milk. 

So I reluctantly wandered down to Londis, looking like I'd just been dragged through a hedge backwards, and on my way there I bumped into a friend (typical) and somehow I got persuaded to watching TV at their flat instead. Which was fine because that's all I wanted to do with my evening anyway. 

However, it got to about 11 o'clock and we started to feel a bit peckish. So we decided to walk to the BP garage (the only shop open at that time) and buy a sandwich. That's it, just a sandwich. 

But on our way there we noticed Roosters was still open (a fast food shop) and thought stuff it, let's go full out. 

Unfortunately, we were told we'd have to wait 15 minutes for our chicken to cook. So we walked to a local bar and sat down and chilled for a bit until it was ready. 

So having spent quite a lot of time at this particular bar over the past few weeks, I've gotten to know a few people that work there, and someone working there that night thought it would be funny to refuse to give me water and only serve gin and tonic. But I wasn't really complaining so just went with it. 

Anyway we said our goodbyes and went to collect our food. 

Now, my friend told me that he'd forgotten something at the bar and made out it was crucial to go back and get it (which was a lie). So we got there, and you guessed it, ended up drinking more alcohol and sitting and the end of the bar stuffing our faces with chicken and chips (not one of my most dignified moments) - the bar had closed by that time so luckily there weren't many witnesses, just us three.  

So after about half a bottle of red wine, endless shots of sambuca and many double (probably triple) G&T's the bartender, my friend and I sat on some sofas trying to play Scrabble. But trying to carefully place tiny plastic tiles on a board whilst having to be articulate after that much alcohol really isn't realistic. So we gave up and ventured back to the flat. 

I woke up in the morning with a monster of a hangover, stumbled into the kitchen, sat at the table and stared out the window just people watching whilst munching on a pack of bourbons... and just contemplating what has happened to my life.

And then the realisation hit me, how did all that happened, when all I wanted was a bloody sandwich. 



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