You know you’ve had a good night out when you wake up in the morning with an “entry stamp” on your wrist. I mean, you’ve gone out with some mates, you’ve had some beers, you’ve even had a dance with some girl you don’t know to a song you don’t remember. And just when your attention is focussed on the day ahead, the wrist stamp brings back memories of the night before.
And then of course you wander to the shop to pick up the papers, which you’ll eventually get around to reading, and as you hand over the cash, the woman behind the counter looks at your risk with that knowing smile. And maybe a sense of judgement too in her eyes as deep down she thinks… “you’re a little old to be going out clubbing aren’t you?”
It was only a brief trip to the shop though, as I’ve had another distraction today which has made me a virtual prisoner in my own home. As all of the doors in my apartment block are being painted I’ve had to spend most of the day at home with the door slightly ajar while I wait for the paint to dry. As we’re all in the same boat my apartment block has taken on a certain Long Bay Gaol quality.
But it hasn’t been too bad, since it’s given me time to recover from last night on the town which was loads of fun, without too much expense. There were drinks with workmates (and a friend), and then it was drinks with Graeme and The Other Andrew at The Newtown Hotel which, inevitably led to the The Imperial Hotel.
As it’s the first time in yonks that I’ve been to see a “proper drag show”, it was loads of fun. We drank, we laughed, we acted like 20 year olds. And we got stamps on our wrists!
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