DrC's B-Day

Rather surprised to find that people have actually been reading my blog. People I know. Yes, I know who you are. Well, a useful Lancaster resource at last...

Last night was DrC's birthday so a mob of people turned up and rearranged furniture outside the White Cross. I drank weak bitter, knowing full well that it would be a long night. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then splintered and most of us headed for Mint to drink overpriced, under-powered cocktails. Still, compared to most cocktail bars (not that we have many to choose from here) it's pretty cheap.

I had a Long Island Iced tea, recklessly, but as it turned out it wasn't so foolish as it was rather tame. I mean, how can a drink with five spirits in it turn out weak? You put a mini-dash of each in, that's how. I complained and received a shrug and an offer to replace it. So I just drank it.

Outside, smoking fags, talking to strangers. Felt like being in Europe somewhere, somewhere nice, I mean.

Drank a mohito, which was better. Then wanted a daiquirí, which was only on the menu in banana format, which sounded horrific. The barmaid happily made us a strawberry one though, which the Colonel and I accepted.

As we sipped our bright pink cocktails in our oversized, ornate glasses, a woman came over and said, 'I hope you don't me asking, but are you two gay?'

Hmm.

Another mojito. Oh dear, I'm definitely feeling reckless now.

As we're kicked out, the wife drags me to the bar where DrC is ordering a massive one-for-the-road line of shots. The wife encourages me to have one, so I do, foolishly.

I thought the barman was just incompetent, as he mixed a fruit and cream type of shot, which simply curdled (flashback to Japan, story for another time). So I spent the rest of the night saying this to anyone who would listen. Today though, the Colonel tells me that he must have done it on purpose, as he said, 'This'll make you vomit' as he poured them.

Classy.

The shot made my head whirl (yes, we all drank them anyway) and we headed to The Lounge, despite my protests. The lounge was dim but not too busy, downstairs anyway. I ordered Fosters, the weakest thing I could find, as I was a bit unsteady by this point.

I took pictures of a young couple (at their request, I hasten to add), chatted to whoever sat near me. Things started to get a bit hazy.

We left after an hour or two, who could say really? The Lounge only actually closes for 1 hour in every 24 to clean up. I shudder to think who stays in there that long.

Outside a man was being pinned down by a bouncer. His face was pressed against the road and his arms pulled wide and held. The man with his face in the road was saying, very well spoken,

'Look, I have no problem with you. Now, why don't you let me up.'

'No chance mate.'

We gawped for a minute, then walked home.