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.