All we have to write about these days is our trip to Norwich almost a month back. I’m 49 so no youngster and during the course of the Now or Never Drinking Session I mentioned to one stripling that we Bypass folk were going to see Combichrist live at the Electric Ballroom in London. Now a nice chap though he was, he clearly couldn’t get his head round a 49 year old public servant engaging in this sort of thing. Go do a Google on Combichrist and you might get an idea of what I’m on about.
Anyway last night six of us set off in a Volkswagen people carrier thing to Camden. I opted to forego any form of food (not good) in order to appy weird make up to myself then Debbs and Gill (getting over a back operation). Latest Bypass gang member Di turned up looking like Sandy from the film Grease (woo woo woo!) so hair was backcombed, facial stripes applied and general slap applied and then 20 mins late Mister Pierre arrived so looking like a bunch of circus people we headed down the A1 with a car full of kids clearly having a gawp at the Biggleswade roundabout.
Stormin, tops, pounding, bass, dark, feckin great, wow, can I live here, no I’m not going home, you look nice, Red Bull with cider please, I’m hungry, I don;t feel well.
12.30am, Pierre’s navigating skills aren’t up to what we actually needed to get to the A1 and we end up on the M1. There’s a bottle of cola and vodka being passed around, Pierre is warbling about reincarnation, S in the drivers seat is clearly getting pissed off at the inane giggling and then one of us makes an urgent announcement. The female bladder isn’t as robust as legend suggests and there’s a James Bond 007 dash to get to the ladies loo at Toddington Services. Much giggles from the male contingent (S and Pierre).
One of the nicest feelings in life apart from telling your boss that she’s as much use as a blocked drain is a having a big wee when you are at bursting point. Gill shouts over the dividing wall “How was it for you babe?”.
More giggles. It’s a girl thing I suppose.
No! there are three strict vegetarians in the VW and we aren’t going to call in at KFC on the Interchange Park.
Di literally falls out of the car, husband Chris is at the door trying not to look pissed off. Giggles…night night!. Drop Mister Pierre off at Shortstown. Gill and wayward daughter Debbs next on the far side of town. My sister in law is a shining star!
We arrive home at 1.45am, one of us, S behind the wheel is stone called sober (bad habit) and I’m totally scorched. Wizz our lurcher shaped Bypass member is at the door and sort of pleased to see us in a humph sort of way and within seconds I’m climbing the stairs in a fairly shambolic way.
As the two “oldest” peeps that contribute to Bedford Bypass (and this is my first direct contribution as I usually edit swear words and bad voodoo bits out) I have to ask myself are we getting a tad too old for this sort of carry on?