A night to remember.

Now you must consider, though I may have a mumble or two about various parties involved in the upcoming article I bear no grudge toward them, or you, and I’m just having a mumble for mumbling’s sake. I’m pretty good at that, actually, to the point that I am considering changing my blog to ‘Ubermumble’ instead.

Hmm, no, it just isn’t the same.

I have had a lot to do this week, and I’m going to touch upon a night I remember above the others (because I’ve already written the article out, you see). Joe’s birthday, Sunday the 16th of March. It wasn’t too long ago but believe me when I say it seems like at least a month. I’ve done more in the holidays then I have done since Christmas and I’m getting tired just thinking about it all! Oh dear, I sound like Brewer.

Preceding this Sunday was a particular house party, which in an effort to be overly confusing I am going to talk about in my next blog article. Regardless, the photos have circulated Facebook already, and everyone can assume it was a night to remember, or for those who drank, a night to at least try and remember.

Joe came over at some unremembered time in the day, or… no, he came over in the evening? Oh dear, my memory really isn’t what it used to be… Something happened in the time between Joe arriving and us both leaving to celebrate his birthday, but whatever it was it was obviously so horrific I am blanking it out of my memories. Hold up! Hooooold up! I have just realized I’m jumping the gun, so let me backtrack to before the weekend….

I was invited to a reunion that George had planned, a reunion of friends separated by university, and whether fair or cynical to think so, I was probably only invited in the first place as a package deal alongside Emily. I have made some good friends in that collection, however, and I wouldn’t like to think that the moment I stopped being Emily’s second half I was ejected from any nights out to catch up. So, though Emily did brake up with me, I thought it would be fine if I went anyway, it is not as though we spit acid at each other when we met up last… Though it did tend to be a bit moody when we gave ourselves empty spaces with no talking.

The reunion had been shuffled about a lot, but ended up being placed on a Sunday, the Sunday that is Joe’s birthday. I had asked previously if Joe could come along, as he was staying with me over the first part of the holidays and I couldn’t really go without him. As far as I was aware there had been no objection to this from either party, George or Joe (who had nothing else planned), and even if the date had been moved everything was a go go…

You may wonder why Joe hadn’t anything else happening on his birthday, and that’s actually a good question, but I believe it was because he was planning to celebrate with friends on another day that everyone was available for. It was the next Friday… at TGI Friday’s (which was also the venue George had booked). I thought, even if it wasn’t brilliant, coming along to the reunion was a better plan then staying in doors and playing Guitar Hero… Joe does know quite a few of the people who went, it may even have been nice!

The snag we encountered was when we found out George hadn’t booked a seat for Joe. I tried to confirm whether he had and I was rebutted rather sharply with a not really and a ‘coz it was just like barton peveril people, etc’ to boot. This was not long before the reunion, and so I was a little frustrated. I have encountered the ‘it’s only for people who did this at this time’ reasoning before, and I have been more frustrated in the past then I am now. It does not seem like an infallible reason to exclude someone, in fact it seems a little vain when you’re talking about a small reunion at TGI’s. I do understand why, yes, but evidently I do not feel as strongly as some. I do not feel that it detracts from the spirit, really.

More upsetting, on my end, and a reoccurring insult that I have had from as many people as I can name, is that I was given the impression that I was being selfish for demanding that Joe comes along. As though my asking somehow implied that I would spit blood if the answer I was given (eventually) was a no…

Listen, sorry but I am not trying to get everyone to run around me with little flags, screaming my name. In the end, a ‘no’ would have been better then half heartedly explaining why you neglected to either book the damn seat or contacting me before you went ahead with your arrangements so I had some time to organise something else. I am not interested in your self justification, I am trying to be proactive and I’m trying to find something to do for my friend that doesn’t involve my Nan’s Sofa suite.

I don’t like being thought of as inconsiderate by someone who isn’t prepared to give me a straight answer. I’m just aggravated.

Whatever view you take, nobody was prepared to help me out, or even say sorry about it. That was crossed off the iCal and perhaps for the best, eh? It may have been painfully awkward if we had gone, perhaps the presence of myself and Joe would have torn the entire group apart with our outlandish not-belonging.

So, we were left with a night to celebrate but nobody to celebrate it with… Proactive James on the case, poking a complacent Joe with his metaphorical telephone stick… Who do you call? Well, we avoided the obvious Ghostbusters joke and went for Greg instead.

“Sure.” he said, “We’re going to the pub tonight, I have to have a curry with my family but I’ll meet you there later, you should go down and meet with everyone else.”

“Oh, great!” we said, unknowingly, “We’ll go now, then.”

Greg seemed to get the impression that on every first Sunday of a break, be it Easter, Christmas or Summer… whatever you get time off for, everyone meets up at the Cleaveland Bay and has a pint together. What Greg didn’t seem to grasp is that, though sneaky it may have been these faultless meetings had to be arranged and organized by whoever had the desire to get everyone there, and just assuming everyone is going to be there doesn’t actually work in the real world.

At around half eight, Joe and I entered the pub, spying out the usual spot where everyone gathers and finding that there was only a few people on the pool table and a weird old man who was either losing all his money to the games machine or having a rampant sexual encounter with it. We gave Greg a ring, and after some confusing conversation that led me to believe the pub had a second floor that must have an entrance hidden behind a picture or something, we concluded that nobody was here yet and that we were early, so we both had a pint… of coke.

Half an hour later and still nobody making an appearance we rang Greg a couple of times, which forwarded us onto Mathew Light who had also been directed by Greg to come to the pub, but had the sense to contract some undesirable illness and ended up flaking on the whole night. Disgruntled, much like the strange old man, we left the pub and went back to a night of Guitar Hero and grudgingly giving up the single coke can Greg brought over to Joe.

Not a total loss, but I did want that coke.


About James

Uberbeard, otherwise known as James Crawford has just graduated from the Arts University Bournemouth, taking a course in Interactive Media. He's known to enjoy washing, eating and sleeping.

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March 2008
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