So, while I'm not here (but I am still here, just not here), here's some stuff to tide you over. For today's words of choice,* I have decided to carry on stealing ideas from other people because it's just easier and cuts down on the thinking time (well, you wouldn't want me to put actual thought into these, would you?). So here's what you have to do today:-
Go to the 4th folder in your photo album, pick the 4th photo, post it and tell us what it's about.
Simple. Here's the pic:-
This is a picture of The Bro, Mrs Bro**, Mrs Bro's Friend and your faithful Badly narrator taken last year at Mrs Bro's birthday. It was a fun night which involved a curry on Brick Lane (London's foremost curry eating area) and then on to an 80s-style club for a night titled End Of The World, in which they play old tunes and have burlesque acts while mock news announcements count down to impending nuclear armageddon. You know, the usual.
All fine and good fun. Until...
Until something about the combination of curry and beer on this particular night disagreed with me rather strenuously. Disagreed to the extent that I had to keep making frequent visits to the gentleman's room. Although here I use the "gentleman's room" in the loosest and most inappropriate sense as... well....
Have any of you ever seen the film Trainspotting? For those of you that have, you're probably suspecting which scene I'm referring to. For those of you that haven't, there is a particular scene in the film where Ewan McGregor (trying to give up the drugs at this point) is caught short and forced to use the toilets in the nearest place - a betting shop. The toilet he uses is considerably less hygienic than one you would find in a WWI trench. The toilet I had to use in this club was considerably less hygienic than that.
Not only was it horrendous that I had to keep going back in there (and, not being well, I wasn't making the state of them any better), it was made worse by the fact that on one occasion I had to wait until there was a free cubicle as there was a couple having sex in one of them. I don't think I've ever been that drunk that I've wanted to have sex in the toilet from Trainspotting. I can;t imagine how that was even possible - the smell, dear Lord, the smell... In the end, I got a cab home once I was well enough to make the journey back (and was gutted to have missed out on the full night).
A lovely story there to tide you over while you're having your lunch/dinner.
(I realise that, a while back, I made a list of things which I wouldn't do and that one of those was blog about friends and family. Snow Day seems to have started an erosion of that rule...)
* I say "today" but it's actually yesterday for me as I sit and write this but today for you as you sit and read it. I've travelled forward in time to give you these words. So effectively I've invented time travel just for the purposes of blogging. Maybe I should have come forward with a more important message like, "Watch out for that bus" or "Whatever you do, don't eat the sushi" but I guess we'll all just have to live with it now. Anyway, back to the point....
** I refer to her as Mrs Bro here but they're not actually married. It's just easier to call her that.