I like these shoes…

So backtracking to a certain friday I mentioned in a grumpier article down the page a bit, the house party I attended in Portsmouth kicked off after a drawn out train journey from Bournemouth. I actually arrived at the party (slightly) on time, though I was probably late enough that it seemed pretty cool and fashionable. Unfortunately, this was not my initial intention, to be fair I just wanted to get through Fratton and come out with both of my shoes. Greg picked me up from the station and I followed his bright orange beacon of a head like some fresh version of the Rudolf story.

“Greg with your hair so bright, won’t you guide me to your home tonight…”

I wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing, last time I came down to Portsmouth was for their Christmas party, and in a curious and depressing parralel Emily had only recently broken up with me then, too. Needless to say, that evening didn’t go down quite so well. Still, being double shafted in the period of three months leaves a boy rather more adapt at dealing with it the second time, and I allowed myself to enjoy the Easter party, even if it was just an evening of inane banter, innuendo and Mario Kart 64.

People who know me also know that I am not a particular fan of the ‘wondrous’ product known as alcohol, so it may come as a slight surprise to know that I actually consumed quite a bit over the period of the night. Of course, I didn’t get steaming drunk, but I did attend a horrific drinking game in which everyone had to mix their drinks and generally try and avoid sharing each others lip spit whilst drinking everyone else’s drinks. The worst part of that game isn’t even that, but arose about half way through the game when everyone realized that you needed a specific card to go to the toilet, and there were only two of those cards left in the deck.

So getting the tipsiest I have been in a long time was quite boring, in reality, and I doubt my evening would have changed a great deal if I had been sipping milk all night. Well, it probably would have been a tastier night… and people would have stared a lot more.

It was nice seeing Greg and Nathan (and Joe(but he doesn’t live there)) again since I hadn’t seen them in such a long time, and it’s was actually pretty good to see Ben and Tom even though we aren’t particularly close (no matter how many times I come onto them). The Facebook photos are a good catch, especially because I look rat-assed in half of them. That is a standard for most of my pictures, mind you, so don’t think anything special has come of it.


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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