Yesterday was Ewans’ birthday. Ewan is the son of a former girlfriend: this relationship finally died about 5 years ago. About a year ago, I thought I’d pissed off Ewan enough that he’d never want to see me again. However, yesterday he texted me, asking me to join him for drinks to celebrate his 18th birthday.
He was drinking in Aikmans (aka the cellar bar) with some mates (Ben, Nick, Alison), his mum, her best mate and her best mate’s boyfriend. I recall drinking
then moving on to the Raisin where we played a couple of games of pool and I drank
- at least 1 apple sourz
- a pint of stella artois
The young ones and I came back to Mycelium Mansion to pick up some sleeping bags. Alison demonstrated how Skye lassies are built tough by not wearing any of her outdoor clothing. NIck, Ben and Alison disappeared rapidly but Ewan and I chatted on for a while until I realised that if I didn’t go to bed I would embarrass myself in at least one of two ways, if not both.
I woke this morning at 9·30, feeling more physical pain than I’ve experienced in years. My stomach relieved itself of the last remnants of chyme and I crawled back to bed. I’ve slept on and off until about 6pm when Ewan called me to ask me out again – I’ve promised him a kamikazi drinking match…
I will go out later but I’m not intending to do the match until tomorrow night. I hear Ben and Nick also puked and Ben is not capable of standing even now.