I went to a pub this weekend, I know, I know, crazy right? So I don't drink and I don't smoke and I don't get to the pub because I'm skint... and yet there I was.
In a pub.
It was my brothers birthday, that was the excuse, and he'd made it ten years more than Jesus did. He'd beaten Morrison and Hendrix by sixteen years and so he was having a drink or two... or five, possibly more. Anyhow, I was there, another of my brothers was there as were some of our other mates and all was good.
Then it got slightly weird.
See, I was there, just with our small group and then people started walking past. People I knew. One of my best mates from my site days pulled up a chair at a table nearby and we chatted and he suggested that there may be work at one of the firms I was attached to before. That was good news, though perhaps not a concrete lead still it was a slice of hope. It was great seeing him again and then as the evening went by I saw four more guys I worked with closely on different sites and each one had a nod and grin for me and I felt pretty good.
Icing on the cake was when a drinking buddy from twenty years ago wandered up, pulled up a chair and chatted like it had been five minutes and he'd just been for a slash. Great stuff.
So I didn't drink, I didn't get in trouble and I didn't act disgracefully at all and yet I still had a pretty decent time. Also, because I was sober, we managed to chat politics, jobs, a bit of sport, worked out a 'Scatterpillar' was a bug that lived in your bowl, dinning on your shit and that perhaps the country was almost certainly, totally, and terribly
So it was a pretty good night. :-)