sometimes i really wonder if, danny glover style, i'm getting too old for this shit.

i went out on thursday night for an impromptu meal thing with paul, christian, andy boolivent, and the long-lost ian beckwith. this went pretty well, and it was dead nice seeing ian after so long. nice that him and christian seemed to be talking and stuff too. i may have drunk some alcohol. this was all a bit extravagant for me considering my current monetary state. on friday we went out for karl's 30th birthday in preston. 30! jesus. karl seemed to handle it ok. i'm not usually that arsed about my birthdays but i suspect 30 will freak me out in a big way. assuming i'm still around then of course. i guess by the age of 30 i expect to be an "adult", whatever the fuck that means. i mean, i know i'm an adult now. supposedly. i just don't particularly feel like one. i'm not coming out with some "eternal youth" bollocks. yes, i know i am old and that teenagers laugh at me and that i look my age (and in fact probably look above my age, which is fun, thank you nature) and blah blah blah. what i mean is i don't feel "mature". i think to do so i'd have to have managed at least a few of

• being in a serious relationship
• having some sort of career i gave a shit about
• didn't have to borrow money off people all the time
• knew what the fuck i was doing with my life

ah well

anyway i got really pretty much very pissed in the lovely warehouse which was nice if expensive. i normally have a shitty time in the warehouse, i think it's too small and jostly, it irritates me. it was kind of half empty now though, i guess because of students fucking off, so that improved things. saturday morning i was woken up at 8 in the morning by johnny hudson and his fucking mobile phone of doom, after an exciting five hours of sleep. apparently john had some things to do before he could leave preston at lunchtime, so he cunningly decided to go back to sleep instead. i kind of rolled around a lot and drifted in and out, feeling like shit and occasionally reading a jeffrey lewis comic, until finally giving in and getting up. christian and sian turned up in the sianmobile and we headed off to bedworth for woodhouse's barbecue thingy.

i don't know if you've ever driven in a stuffy car for a few hours down a motorway, i recommend it. it's GRRRR-EAT!

so we got there and by then i'd pretty much recovered. a quick visit to the good old bedworth tescos (scene of my semi-famous belt-theft) and cue starting the drinking again. it was cool seeing matt after so long, his girlfriend becky seemed dead nice too. john was his usual johnness, we finally met helen who apparently has heard "lots of things" about us all. uh oh. surprisingly though she didn't ward us off with a cattle prod but was friendly instead. doesn't she realise that sort of behaviour can lead to a drunken christian breaking your precious NES? oh dear.

yeah so i got pissed out of my head, surprise surprise, on a terrifying cocktail of, well, cocktails. plus cider and beer. for some reason the evening involved watching Threads, i can't quite work that one out. anyway so i woke up on sunday and as you can imagine, felt like crying then killing myself. just to end the pain of the universe sitting on my head and trying to force needles into my brain. after stumbling around and vomiting for a bit in my usual classy fashion we left john's.

back on the motorway! YAY!

christian and sian were very sweet to me, if i gloss over the unfortunate "christian poking me in the head" incident that nearly led to my punching him in the neck, and bought me pizza and generally stopped me from bursting into tears at the hp lovecraftesque horror of the hangover i was experiencing.

and that's about it really. pretty much all quiet on the lancaster front. christian and sian finally have their house sorted out. meanwhile i'm still trying to find a job and sort out my various hilarious financial woes.

i do it to myself, i do, and that's what really hurts.