I may write lots more about this later, or I may not … I'm a bit "morning after" at the moment.
So …
Okay … testing … testing … one, two …
Here we go again with NaDruBloDa Redux - The Director's Cut:
The magnificent glory that is National Drunk Blogging Day.
Scene One: Breakfast:
Enter: One seriously hung over piece of last night's party trash.
Eugh … My mouth tastes like the bottom of a zookeeper's boots. My bloodstream is still mostly alcohol from the party last night so I've got myself a nice head start for my drunk blogging in that I'm probably still drunk.
I wake to the news that they hanged Saddam this morning. Must've been after I left the party because I don't remember that bit …
Hokay … Breakfast.
Hair of the dog seems a good idea for NaDruBloDa … Start the day with something light and refreshing. A nice glass of chardonnay.
That's the lovely fresh, grassy, complex French stuff; not the "buttery oaky" Australian nonsense - as subtle as a gasmask full of gorilla-fart and as sophisticated as only an Australian can be. Delicious it may be, but chardonnay it ain't.
So … Corkscrew ready? … squeak, creak, grunt, POP! … gurgle, splash … slurp … yum.
I'd better eat something, too. Poached eggs on chunky toast coming right up …
My menu for today:
One bottle of chardonnay
One bottle of Rioja
One bottle of malt whisky (Macallan)
One bottle of vodka
Four cans of Adnams Suffolk Stong Beer
Of course, I'm not going to drink the whole damned menu; it's just there if I need it.
Scene Two: Mid morning: Sitting in the studio with a slight hangover (ameliorated no doubt by my vinous breakfast) …
Just getting the photos together from last night's Mexican party at Chris and Jann's. My stupid batteries ran out on the camera so I'll mix in some of our last party to fill in the gaps.
It doesn't matter as it's the same party anyway … For the past twenty-five years it's always been the same party, except that these days we've been joined by "Partygoers: The Next Generation", the grown up sons and daughters of some of the original partygoers now added to the mix.
In the quarter of a century since I left college, I've been partying with the same bunch of people, month after month, year in, year out. A motley crew of around forty musicians and artists, some of whom come and go, but the essential core membership stays the same.
This is part of the reason I never meet nice girls at parties; there's never anyone new (unless we breed 'em ourselves).
We're a pretty insular lot. Outsiders tend to find it kind of hard to fit in with a crowd who have
(a) been together for so many decades and;
(b) all seen one another naked in dressing rooms waaay too many times.
So here, without further ado - other than some more wine (slurp … mmm … refreshing) - is the true start of my NaDruBloDa …
My National Drunk Blogging Evening-Before …
Chris and Jann's place, Trellis Studio is a bloody great thatched house way out in Deliverance country. It's got a little outshot on the end, which is where they actually live, but most of it is taken up with two floors of recording studio and a DVD production facility.
And it's a GREAT place for a party.
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly discover two fridges full of beer … Mmmm …The sombreros don't last for very long. They tend to get in the way. You can't get forty people in sombreros drinking beer in a small kitchen.
Jann and the girls have been cooking for two days solid. There's enough different kinds of chili to feed Santa Ana's army for a month. Mmmm …
Your hosts and MCs for the evening's musical entertainment: Old Neil and Old Dive, having a miserable time as always … Somehow - don't ask me how - the two of us have gained a reputation as the most "difficult" moody bastards in Norfolk. But we're really just fluffy happy bunnies. Honest …As I have on a Spinal Tap teeshirt at a Mexican theme party, we name ourselves Spinal Tapas for the night.
Note to Utsav: That's my vintage Martin D18.
Our lovely flamenco dancer (John's daughter in law, from the cast of Partygoers - The Next Generation) does a whole bottle of tequila and spends the early hours of this morning in wailing and lamentation in the dowstairs toilet.
As my camera batteries die long before midnight, here are a few pics from our last party a few months back, in the "big room downstairs". Less Mexican, more Punk, that one …Above, we see the inevitable picture of Dive at a party (whenever I'm not playing, you can find me in the kitchen).
Time for some bass … Things start to get a bit blurry … And yes, that's my original Stiff Records teeshirt from the seventies (for the uninitiated, it reads "If it ain't STIFF, it ain't worth a fuck") …
Nice, respectable people, musicians …A piece of advice: Never move in next door to musicians. We're a miserable bunch of old sods who never have any fun (at least not when anyone's looking).
That's Chris in the middle, down by the barn, asleep in a lawn chair. Chris is a drummer and a one-man party. He can out-drink Australia.
Back to last night.Keeley (one of Jann's daughters) drops her alto sax and starts to dance like your dad.
A signal I think for us to take leave of the party … mostly because I can't remember a whole lot after that.
I assume from this morning's news that sometime later we must have hanged Saddam, but it was all a bit blurry … I don't remember him being at the party …
So there you have it … The start to my NaDruBloDa; what old musicians get up to when there's no audience …
Now I'm going to have another glass of wine, check out a few friends' blogs, then think about making lunch … See you later.
Scene Three: Lunchtime. Downstairs:
What started out as a butternut squash risotto has kind of grown with the addition of a handful of locally picked wild mushrooms and a bag of chestnuts … and the rest of the chardonnay of course …
I'm actually feeling quite normal … ish (if a bit full of risotto). The beer and tequila sloshing around my bloodstream have been calmed by the bottle of chardonnay.
I dare say things will get a great deal hazier later on, but for now I'm going to chill out on the sofa with a DVD of Kiss Me Deadly (Ralph Meeker - Yaay!) and maybe a little nap …
And no I'm NOT going to watch Withnail and I. Doing the drinking game by myself, when my bloodstream is already turning my liver to paté, would mean a very short NaDruBloDa, with vomit and unconsciousness.
Nevertheless, I've opened the Macallan because you can't watch film noir without a tumbler of scotch in your hand …
Cheers!
Phil pops over later to pick up some stuff, affording me the very welcome opportunity to get some coffee inside me.
I freeze my movie and put the TV on for him while I'm in the kitchen.
Bloody hell, it's Zulu …
You certainly know it's Christmas with British telly. Zulu, The Great Escape, The Sound Of Music; every year the same fucking thing. As thrilling and exciting as a prolonged toothache.
Phil's got a Superman costume for tomorrow night's festivities. Only thing is, it's an all in one, which could be entertaining should he get caught short.
Then it's back to the movie, feeling a little bit swimmy as the caffeine and the alcohol square up to one another.
Scene Four: Er … Later.
The stairs … watch out for the stairs …
Careful now. Woozy swaying isn't the best thing to be doing at the top of the stairs.
Right. Go down 'em on my bum. Don't bump too hard in case I throw up …
Um … My original plan for today was to try to explain relativity to you (with all the maths) whilst steadily drinking all day.
But as I started the day already drunk, I kind of forgot …
… Then I fell asleep …
What I didn't feel like doing was drunkenly typing lots of embarrassing things about myself or my friends that I would regret tomorrow.
Shame, really, as that's what NaDruBloDa is all about.
I think that rather than drunk blogging, they should have suggested caffeine and sugar-rush blogging. Get people UP and overexcited so they post all kinds of silliness. Being drunk just makes me feel woozy and sleepy and a bit sick …
I'm now feeling just a teensy bit not so good. I'm alright sitting here, but I REALLY don't think it would be wise to try standing up right now. I don't want to waste all that lovely risotto from earlier, but I have the feeling it wants to come back and say hello.
Ooo … Woozy and nauseous …
So this is the feeling that the binge-drinking youth of today do their damnedest to experience at every available opportunity?
Believe me, there is nothing attractive or alluring about this at all.
I'm going to try to go to bed now. I know it's early, but I'm kinda hoping I can sleep this off.
I am NOT looking forward to the morning.
Scene Five: Later still, after some water and crackers and a torchlit walk around the garden in the fresh (if bloody windy and rainy) air.
Um …
Actually feeling a lot better now.
I know I said I wasn't going to post anything embarrassing, but I have a feeling that this whole episode kinda covers that territory. Ho hum …
Note to self: Probably not a wise move to participate in next year's NaDruBloDa … Perhaps if they have a National Slightly Tipsy And Giggly Blogging Day. How about it, Rootietoot?
So adios and goodnight from sunny Mexico.
If I'm not about in the morning, would someone please email me some Alka Seltzer?
