I'm normally very good when it comes to going out for drinks with mates. I have a few beers or a glass or two of wine and then head home (moderately sober) and all is good - Honestly!
However, when I go for my bi-weekly catch up with my oldest friend, the bass player extraordinaire (and tallest man I know), Benn Cunningham, things always go slightly awry.
I don't know what it is about Benn that turns me into a debauched alcoholic; The cheeky 'yea, right!' look when I say 'I'll have this one and leave' or the suggestive question, 'Do you want another?'. Maybe it's Benn's insistence on having a pint over a coffee (I really do try to resist sometimes).
Whatever it is, a quiet night normally ends up with us drunk in soho, me dancing on a table whilst Benn waxes philosophical with some old tranny at the end of the bar.
There was a time not so long ago, when I could go out all nights of the week, get totally sloshed and get up the next day and function like a 'human being'. Recently however, I fear I am beginning to show my age. One boozy night out = two days of pain and recovery with a selection of 80's Classics (The Goonies, The Labyrinth etc.) to get me through.
Until someone comes up with a cure for hangovers I will have to get used to them. I anticipate far more impromptu drinkies with Mr. Cunnigham in the future.
phone rings: brrrr brrrrr
Benn: What are you wearing? Fancy a beer?
Gavin: Can we go for a coffee?