I’m not going to lie; it’s been a curious evening. Better than staying in on my own with my socks warming on the portable heater, yes, but also... curious.
I was trying to sing the US national anthem backwards in the car. Not the tune backwards (that would be madness) - just the words. I don’t know why. I was on my way into town and I didn’t want to think about other stuff, I suppose.
I was on my way to meet my friend Gareth, who, as a birthday present wanted to take me to see a live recording of a podcast I listen to. We sat in the concert hall, surveying the grand ceiling and glittering chandeliers.
“Do you think they might look a bit dangerous?” he asked. I hadn’t thought of it. I wagered that they were probably bolted to the strongest bit of roof, and had been suspended there like that for over a hundred years.
Before long, we were being entertained by a volley of humorous facts: the record for flipping beer mats is held by someone called Mat Hand; a guy called Freddie Kruger holds a water-ski-ing record; Panda bears have their own Harvard, and in a curious twist of synchronicity, the US flag was designed by a 17-year old student who got a B minus for sewing on two extra stars to represent Hawaii and Alaska. “Light early dawn’s the by” I hummed to myself.
It was all most enjoyable. You know, a classy, civilised and informative way to spend a Friday night.
Speaking of which...
“They want us to go find them, I think,” said Gareth at the end, looking at his phone. The ‘they’ were Ruth and a few of our female friends, out in town for Ruth’s birthday. So in an odd segue, Gareth and I trekked through the drizzly town centre, past flashing windows and underdressed gaggles of girls, until we got to a thudding reverberation of lights and music called Popworld.
If Popworld was a venue that was dedicated to recreating the 1990s then I say... kudos to them for hitting the vibe right on the head; I felt just as awkward and out of place as I had back then - the nerdy guy in the corner, who will probably always be incompatible with loud parties in the dark!
I looked, felt, and was... uncomfortable.
“Thmpfan part’ayfth in classic shrickffkfthsuindancing... looking sexy...herthatubyllv...” mumbled the DJ, distorting the overworked speakers while a steady thump and bass shook the floor.
Tune after tune pounded out, reminding me that I chose the library over the nightlife for a reason when I was a teenager. The girls though, were loving it, and I at least saw the joy of that, while they danced in a circle to the catchy rhythms. That mattered more to me than my own discomfort somehow. Maybe I am different after all to the way I was in 1994?
“I think at least a little alcohol is probably required to enjoy a place like that,” I remarked on the way back to the car. Gareth agreed. He told me about having to shout over the bar.
We put Classic FM on, and it felt like seeing the sea on that first day of the holidays.
And so I’m home. Home is good, I like home. Except of course most Fridays, that isn’t true at all is it. Most nights I can’t face it.
I fished my keys out of my pocket as I walked to the front door. Silent clouds hung over the stars and the wind rustled the treetops, delightfully. Sometimes you just have to have courage.
“Br-ave the of home the...” I sang to myself, quietly. “And free the of land the...”
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