Lost Weekends (Part 1)

Fractured images flashing past as another weekend goes from a few pints with friends to a sofa you don't know and warm white wine for breakfast. Waking up at lunchtime after an unsuccessful attempt to find one of the fabled early opening pubs. Unsatisfying breakfast at a fast food restaurant, plastic eggs and bacon, before a taxi back to another sofa. Fitful sleep with contact lenses still in. Waking up again at what feels like lunchtime but you couldn't be sure. Not hungry at all but warm white wine looks appetising and you chase it down with a fag while rifling through CDs and music videos on YouTube.

The pub across the road has a beer garden and is now open. Despite it being March, these facts and some watery sunshine is all the justification you need. You bumble across the street, sun shining but three day old lenses fogging the world and taking the sharp edges away. Couple of pints then home, couple of pints to sort yourself out then home  to finally sleep in your own bed.

First pint hurts, goes down in chunks but you don't question this, you'll get through it like you always do. Second pint, "make it tops please, mate," the dash of lemonade makes all the difference and you lunch on crisps. Move out to the beer garden with crisps and beer to have a calming cigarette. Shaky hands make lighting up difficult and you blame the non-existent wind.

Friends of a friend turn up, hanging too. Stories of the previous night's excess are compared - who fucked who and who spewed where and when. You don't know any of these people but it soon becomes clear that there are no taboos and any attempted joke is OK. Either that or people are just too fucked to even bother commenting. Another pint seems a good idea, as does food. You eat the meat and the carbs, leaving anything green.

It starts to cool so you move inside for one last pint. Three hours later your group are holding court in the corner and in-jokes have been created as the afternoon has passed. These people you met only a few hours ago are now the dearest friends you have even though you know you'll probably never see them again.

First Annual Report of the MDS

A lot of this post is going to be personal and specific to some particular people, but I hope there's also enough in it for those who have no idea who those people actually are. The weather in Edinburgh today has been schizophrenic but along with the hailstones, sleet and rain there has been excitement in the air. The rather wonderful TeaQueen is heading North for a weekend of quiet contemplation and earnest discussion of the issues of the day and how they impact on our daily lives. Oh, we may have a small sherry too to help fuel the conversation.

One of her visits last year saw the birth of the Musselburgh Deaf Society, an entirely ficticious organisation that was the end result of two and a half days of carousing, misheard Scottish accents and a joke involving a deaf bus tour. I'm not going to attempt to repeat the story here, partly because it's hugely convoluted but mainly because it's one of those moments that is the epitome of "you just had to be there." It's one of those in-jokes that can only ever come into being when you're around close friends and is a core reason friendships of that nature are so important and should never be taken for granted. Simply put, they make the world/life a better place to be.

For me, music is another strand that strengthens the bonds of a friendship. It's not just a case of having similar music taste to someone although that is often true, it's something far more fundamental. Music has been a constant in my life, from my parents' choices in the background of my childhood through to my first fumbles around the charts and on to full blown obsession from my teenage years onwards. Music acts as a stimulus and can take you back to an instant in an instant, not always in a good way. It may be a time, a place, even a smell, but more often than not it's a person. This is a topic that could probably justify an entire blog let alone a single post. However, as this is still nominally a blog involving five-a-day I'll stick to the house rules. So, in honour of the TeaQueen's impending state visit and as a belated celebration of the first anniversary of the Musselburgh Deaf Society, here are five songs that will be forever associated with the three main protagonists of that weekend: the Queen herself, The Blonde and The Geordie; and the words/lines that spring immediately to mind.

M.I.A: Paper Planes

Canterbury, Most Haunted, Red wine, after The Tavern

Survivor: Eye of the Tiger

Closing, gin and crisps, Manchester, cock (written on a piece of A4 and stuck to the office wall), "oh look, a bee"

Florence and The Machine: Dog Days

Redhead ("not ginge"), horses, riding hat, lost Bank Holiday Sunday, funter

The Stone Roses: Sally Cinammon

 

"This is the North, where we do what we like."

Lady Gaga: Bad Romance

Campest straight man ever, Sing Star duet, dance moves spookily down pat