When a friend invited me out for a few drinks last night to see some more of Manchester, I thought well why not. I have nothing to rush back to Hull for at the moment, and seeing some more of the sights will set me in good stead before my impending move.
So armed with a small bag, wash kit and change of clothes I arrived in Manchester ready for a day of work and looking forward to a quiet informal drink in the evening. Arriving at work I was immediately advised that at lunch the team was going out to meet a friend who worked across the road (I'm sorry I should explain, up until a few months ago the team I am in worked in Sheffield for a large legal firm, but after a very acrimonious split with the senior management moved lock stock to a firm in Manchester). Fine I though we'll go and grab a sandwich and a coffee and catch up on all the gossip from the old firm. This quick bite to eat ended up as a 2 hour drinking session and a limp salad sandwich to try and absorb some of the alcohol before trying to force my way through an afternoon at work (or rather force myself to stay awake and look busy whilst really catching up on some wonderful peoples' blogs and the latest news on the BBC website!).
Working through a liquid lunch used to be something we did a lot of when I was a trainee, and never seemed to phase me. Unfortunately this ability seems to have diminished somewhat with age (or lack of practice!) but after three hours of staring blankly at a computer screen whilst pushing papers around it was time to leave! Again the best laid plans were to be further disrupted when the team decided that we would try and be a bit more sociable and invited another team out for a few drinks! I find it amazing how work socials have a habit of reverting back to school discos with teams sitting like boys and girls on opposite sides of the dance floor, staring across at each other and willing the first brave person to get up and make some kind of move to break apart the barriers.
It's okay I thought, I've still got an hour till I'm due to meet my friend, one more small drink and then I can move on. Of course the one small drink turned into three more large drinks, and then a mad dash across Manchester with suitcase and laptop bag through rush hour traffic and the rain. Arrived with a mouth already full of apologies and excuses to find that she was stuck in the same rush hour traffic and could I get the drinks in!
So armed with a small bag, wash kit and change of clothes I arrived in Manchester ready for a day of work and looking forward to a quiet informal drink in the evening. Arriving at work I was immediately advised that at lunch the team was going out to meet a friend who worked across the road (I'm sorry I should explain, up until a few months ago the team I am in worked in Sheffield for a large legal firm, but after a very acrimonious split with the senior management moved lock stock to a firm in Manchester). Fine I though we'll go and grab a sandwich and a coffee and catch up on all the gossip from the old firm. This quick bite to eat ended up as a 2 hour drinking session and a limp salad sandwich to try and absorb some of the alcohol before trying to force my way through an afternoon at work (or rather force myself to stay awake and look busy whilst really catching up on some wonderful peoples' blogs and the latest news on the BBC website!).
Working through a liquid lunch used to be something we did a lot of when I was a trainee, and never seemed to phase me. Unfortunately this ability seems to have diminished somewhat with age (or lack of practice!) but after three hours of staring blankly at a computer screen whilst pushing papers around it was time to leave! Again the best laid plans were to be further disrupted when the team decided that we would try and be a bit more sociable and invited another team out for a few drinks! I find it amazing how work socials have a habit of reverting back to school discos with teams sitting like boys and girls on opposite sides of the dance floor, staring across at each other and willing the first brave person to get up and make some kind of move to break apart the barriers.
It's okay I thought, I've still got an hour till I'm due to meet my friend, one more small drink and then I can move on. Of course the one small drink turned into three more large drinks, and then a mad dash across Manchester with suitcase and laptop bag through rush hour traffic and the rain. Arrived with a mouth already full of apologies and excuses to find that she was stuck in the same rush hour traffic and could I get the drinks in!
As I have said the purpose of staying over was to allow me to see some more of Manchester, and to consider some more flats although unfortunately the only places I saw were the inside of bars, and the only flats I saw were from the back of a black taxi at about 1:30 this morning!
I'm used to getting up at 5am for the commute, and whilst a 6:30 start seems like a piece of mana from heaven, just the thought of trying to raise my head from my pillow this morning seemed at one point beyond my physical ability (at the time I doubted that even Hercules would have the strength to get me out of my pit!).
Lying in bed I started to wonder where the ability to drink on a school night and still be up and raring to go the next morning had gone! Is it a sign of my steady decline into maturity and all things grey and beige? If so how come the mature business men I saw last night were still able to do it? Or is this like any type of physical activity, something that you have to practice at to get better? The thought of trying it again anytime soon already has my head pounding and my stomach churning! Well don't worry boys I promise not again for a while (well I say that now!)
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