Right then nation. Another week’s delay on the world building post. You know what, I’m not going to give a date. It’ll be ready when its ready and you’ll god damn enjoy reading it.
Lol.
I hate the word lol.
Ok. Right. On with the show.
This weekend we, at the Maloney castle, were visited by our friends from England. We met these guys in Australia, and have visited them sporadically in the years since our return. So anyway, they were up here this weekend, staying with us. It’s always an interesting time when we’re together. This time, we played drinking games.
I hate drinking games.
Drinking games are for university, and I haven’t been at university in years, but hay. Emma can be convincing at times. So, we played ring of fire.
Ring of fire, for the uninitiated, is a game whereby you place a single, large glass in the centre of a table, and spread a deck of cards around said glass forming an unbroken ring. There are many variations on the game, but it all boils down to filling the central vessel and one person drinking it upon the reveal of the fourth king. This marks the end of the game. The central vessel is also drunk upon the breaking of the ring of fire, but the game continues after this.
We played a couple of games, each of us drawing one card at a time.
I went first, pulling a two. Two fingers of my beverage drank. Emma second, pulling a four. Last to touch the floor drinks. Scott went third. King. Contribute to the central vessel. Kate, fourth. Eight, Date. She chose Emma. Not in a cool way, they both drink. We continued pulling cards, until three kings were down and there were only four cards left. One of us was going to pull the dreaded fourth king. Again, I went first. Nine. Not a great one, waterfall. I drink, and everyone falls in until the person to their right has finished.
Ok, Emma’s turn.
King. That was it, game over.
Two cards left whose identity will forever be a mystery.
The pint glass was full. A shit mix of rose and white wine, beer and cider. But like a champ, she downed it in two gulps. This was game over, and in hindsight, should have been the night over, but she was convincing, and we went out.
Oh dear.
This was going to be the last night out in Troon for a while.
Fresh off the bat I got I.D.’d by a man who turned out to not be a bouncer. This same man thought he was an English man, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t. he was Scottish. And on the day England trumped Scotland 62-21 he was trying to claim to be English? An outrage. He needed to be educated. This resulted in us being asked kindly to leave the premises.
We tried getting into a pub down the road. But due to the pint of shite Emma had to consume, she was way, way too drunk, and we were denied entry. Rightly so. A taxi ride home, and an hour later Emma was in our room. Not in bed, but on the floor. I tried, with all my strength I tried, but I couldn’t get her in bed. Oh well. A double bed to myself.
Nothing better.
The next day was our friends last before they were to return home. We headed up to Glasgow, to meet another couple that we knew from Australia. They now have a child, a daughter who’s just celebrated her first birthday. And after a few hours playing and putting up with her cuteness, I was nearly ready to stuff her under my coat and do one. I’ve never been broody before, and I don’t like it.
We traveled back to Glasgow station, and sent our friends on their way. I tried to drink a coffee, but I was so knackard that I couldn't finish it and it went cold whilst I slept. I've never been so upset with myself for anything before, allowing perfectly good coffee to spoil.
So that was my weekend. One massivly messy blur that made me feel so old its unreal.
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