Tonight we had a ‘Kirkie Christmas night out’ – not a Christmas night out in Kirkie, but rather a night out with out mob from Kirkie… in town. Bit strange living in town and coming out into town with folk that you used to live next to… being the only one heading back to the City Centre is always a bit odd when it used to be all of you getting taxis home together.
Either way, we had a few drinks together in Ashton Lane’s Vodka Wodka… full of idiots and expensive drinks… just as one might expect from a Saturday night out in this particular part of the West End.
Can’t beat a bit of a sing along to the music.
Showing our small-town roots maybe.
The plan was to head on to the club in the Oran Mor afterwards. It’s apparently £9 to get in on a Saturday, which seems like a crazy price to pay for entrance, but McGeagh pointed out that the Garage is up at £7 to get in after 11pm and without a student card. Seven quid! Mental. Shows how long it’s been since I’ve paid to get into a club… and how laughable it is when nightclubs claim poverty to photographers. Given that an extra tenner would be pretty much the price for one more person in the club, it shows the value they place on things.
In any event, I bailed early to make sure I could get the last subway home. I wouldn’t have minded paying the entrance and possibly for the taxi later (or more likely stumbled back drunkenly) since I don’t see these fellows much anymore, but I felt pretty drained after a week of waking up later and later because of work, and didn’t see myself being much fun. I thought it’d be good to wake up tomorrow without the intoxicated haze from the night before for a change.
I need to find a way to make time and see some of these Kirkie folk more often… after all, we may all be bastards, but we’re bastards that have managed to stick around each other since high school whilst nobody else has, so that’s got to mean something.
