When I was a younger man – let’s say a fair few years ago – a good weekend with friends would mean beers, dancing, laughing and partaking of some kind of illegal substance.
I’m not saying I was a drug fiend, or even an addict, but we did always like it when someone would turn up with a bit of speed, some ecstasy or a bit of dancing powder. Writing this down makes it sound far worse than it was, but actually, we were just kids having fun, enjoying our downtime.
We all worked pretty hard – most of us were saving like crazy, doing two or three jobs, to make sure we had enough money to go travelling for a while – and we all liked to party pretty hard too. Being together, high, drunk, whatever – loving the music, dancing like fools and chasing tail – was the best release from our McJobs that we knew.
We’d go to gigs and not remember who we’d seen. We’d do the ‘silent witness’ thing the following morning, pulling the sheet back to see who we’d slept with. We’d laugh and laugh and laugh at each other’s disasters.
Times haven’t changed so much. I still love a good night on the town – the buzz from dancing, drinking with friends, laughing and staying out all night has never really left me. I don’t do the drugs these days, but I still like to have a good time.
Whereas, back in the day, I’d be sure that we had all the cheap booze and chemistry in place for a good weekend, these days it’s more about making sure there’s champagne in the chiller and a good restaurant booked to start the night properly.
We used to be sorted for E’s and whizz.
These days, I’m still sorted.
Sorted for cheese and fizz.