The Return of the Native
The Return of the Native
Getting back from the countryside, me, Rosanne and Dan Te planned to pop down to the Evening Star for a pint with Mr B, who was coming down to Brighton to see Rosanne, it being her birthday and all that. Just about to set off, the buzzer goes. “Dude”. As has previously been documented on here, it was Andy. Dude.
Being well tired from much travel and interchanging of time zones, his main priority was to get some food. So we phoned Alice, and popped round to eat her Pasta Bake. Much surprise ensued as few were expecting his imminent return. After pasta bakes and a chat, we popped down to the Eastern for an ale. “Oh, I reckon a beer will probably make or break me.”; said Andy. By the time Jed and Tommy had arrived (with crotch-rubbing episode around the Return of the Jed, I), the answer certainly seemed to be “make”, and so before long we found ourselves down Casablanka’s Jazz Club. This is often something I try and avoid, but on the other hand it is quite cheap. Sadly this didn’t stop us spending about £30 each as me, Andy, Rosanne and Daniel Taylor danced the night away to the live jazz band. Deary deary me.
By all accounts, as we left the club, Daniel and Rosie were thinking; “Oh look. Andy and Chris are talking to those two girls. We should leave them to it”, and walked on down the road. Andy joined them about a minute later, saying “Hey, why are you two walking off? Wait for me!”. “I thought you and Chris were talking to those girls”, responded Daniel. “Oh, he’s already ruined that one” replied Andy, as the two girls go off past them down the road, whilst I call after them “Wait! I haven’t finished telling you about Kafka!”. O dear god. This is what Daniel tells me, anyway. Duude. Not good. I have to stop doing things like that. Ha.
Home we went. As Mr B was asleep in Rosie’s bed, Tom asleep in his bed, Anna asleep in my bed, and Rosie and Daniel preparing to sleep on the Futon (we have a crowded house at the moment), I went to sleep on the big heap of old rags on my floor. Or my dirty clothes as some would call them. And a surprisingly pleasant night’s sleep it turned out to be, with breakfast in bed courtesy of Rosanne and Daniel a pleasant morning surprise also.
Getting back from the countryside, me, Rosanne and Dan Te planned to pop down to the Evening Star for a pint with Mr B, who was coming down to Brighton to see Rosanne, it being her birthday and all that. Just about to set off, the buzzer goes. “Dude”. As has previously been documented on here, it was Andy. Dude.
Being well tired from much travel and interchanging of time zones, his main priority was to get some food. So we phoned Alice, and popped round to eat her Pasta Bake. Much surprise ensued as few were expecting his imminent return. After pasta bakes and a chat, we popped down to the Eastern for an ale. “Oh, I reckon a beer will probably make or break me.”; said Andy. By the time Jed and Tommy had arrived (with crotch-rubbing episode around the Return of the Jed, I), the answer certainly seemed to be “make”, and so before long we found ourselves down Casablanka’s Jazz Club. This is often something I try and avoid, but on the other hand it is quite cheap. Sadly this didn’t stop us spending about £30 each as me, Andy, Rosanne and Daniel Taylor danced the night away to the live jazz band. Deary deary me.
By all accounts, as we left the club, Daniel and Rosie were thinking; “Oh look. Andy and Chris are talking to those two girls. We should leave them to it”, and walked on down the road. Andy joined them about a minute later, saying “Hey, why are you two walking off? Wait for me!”. “I thought you and Chris were talking to those girls”, responded Daniel. “Oh, he’s already ruined that one” replied Andy, as the two girls go off past them down the road, whilst I call after them “Wait! I haven’t finished telling you about Kafka!”. O dear god. This is what Daniel tells me, anyway. Duude. Not good. I have to stop doing things like that. Ha.
Home we went. As Mr B was asleep in Rosie’s bed, Tom asleep in his bed, Anna asleep in my bed, and Rosie and Daniel preparing to sleep on the Futon (we have a crowded house at the moment), I went to sleep on the big heap of old rags on my floor. Or my dirty clothes as some would call them. And a surprisingly pleasant night’s sleep it turned out to be, with breakfast in bed courtesy of Rosanne and Daniel a pleasant morning surprise also.
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 8:18 AM
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