Just to confirm yesterday’s blog, I am definitely an idiot. What kind of body clock insists on waking you up at 8.30am when you only made it home and to bed at 4am in the first place? An idiot’s body clock that what kind. Admittedly I managed to get back to sleep but I am currently in a kind of awake coma state after my mammoth driving last night. I’m using the term mammoth in regards to the fact it took over 10 hours to get to Aberystwyth and back, and not that I was driving a mammoth around. That would be amazing and I think you’d find that this blog wouldn’t be called ‘I’m an Idiot’ but instead ‘I drove an extinct creature, hail me as your king!’ Although I’ll admit, I’d probably be a tad scared. They were rather big I believe and having not really encountered humans before or at least not since neanderthal form, they probably wouldn’t let me ride one very easily. Also, you’d need a pretty big saddle and I doubt you’d be able to jump over any hedges or other things horses can do. Anyway, I digress.
I haven’t been home at 4am in a long time and I’ve decided its no longer cool. Perhaps, if I wasn’t an idiot and I’d stayed in Aberystwyth with the other acts, Fergus, Ruth and Milo, then staying up till 4am drinking shots with 18 year olds would’ve been cool. However I think turning down your road after a series of motorways and road that could only have been designed by a drunk child with a gyroscope and then getting home at 4am, is really the opposite of cool. I can’t imagine a day where that will ever become cool. Where kids suddenly want to be stuck in traffic or be at Corley services at 3am by themselves surrounded by a dodgy smell of wee and noticing a man in the car park that was almost certainly dead. Ok, I’m not 100% certain he was dead, but he was lying down in his car and the engine was still on. The lying down bit, fine. The engine on bit, not fine. In this situation where I was in a state of sleep deprived delirium and car based cabin fever, I did what any other good British citizen would do. I stared a bit, thought about taking a photo for twitpic, then decided to just leave him be and drive away. I really hope he wasn’t dead or I am a terrible man. I also hope he wasn’t dead because dying at Corley services would be really shit. Its not even on my list of top 15 service stations.
So am I regretting doing the gig? No. Not at all. It was stupidly awesome. Deceivingly good really, to the extent where you wonder if laughing gas is being pumped in or one cue someone presses a button that electric shocks anyone who isn’t chortling. Did it make the drive home worth it? Nearly. I think actually doing a Bullit style escape was for the best anyway, as I was reminded by a post on my facebook yesterday from ex-Aber student Sophie that last time I did stay for drinks and we were all taken to a student bar on the pier. I thought it’d be much fun but instead I felt like the old man in the room as I witnessed young people having fun, and the clincher, a student leap on one of the other acts in a sort of face rape, to which he responded by being rather scared and we both left. I think its still every blokes dream to go out drinking with 20 year old student girls, but let me tell you this, its just a bit terrifying. So getting in the car and driving home, I may have felt old, but I’m quite comfortable with that. I even undid my top jeans button on the way home and ate half a bar of Caramel. I have somehow become a middle aged lady. Oh dear god.
