Another Day, Another Birthday

Posted by | March 22, 2004 | Uncategorized | No Comments

“There is still no cure for the common birthday.”
John Glenn
Nick’s girlfriend Sarah was next to be ticked off the March birthday list. It was decided that a bout of bowling might be a good start, something Michelle and I have never really got the hang of. The night was going as expected – my score was rock bottom of the leader board. Noting the Miles Per Hour gauge on each bowling lane, and factoring in my incredibly poor skittle aiming, I hit on pure comedy gold. “The player with the fastest bowl wins!” I bellowed, and with that battle commenced. Competitive cries of “slowcoach” and “loser” bandied about, and somehow I still managed to lose. Stomachs rumbling, we bundled out for a meal, on the way remembering to give the “electric shock” machine a go. We eventually left crying with laughter, re-enacting Nick’s contorted face of pain as he held on to the electric conductors. Poor fool.
And on we went to the Yellow River Caf?. An hour later, and full to our brims, all of us waddled back to Sarah’s house to settle down with drinks, song and revelry. I was tremendously excited, and spent the rest of the night constructing devilish cocktails.
Finally, the hazy but highly enjoyable Saturday night came to an end. Night had fallen, and so had I, many times over imaginary objects. Sensing it was time to go, Michelle and I called a taxi. It only occurred to us after we’d actually set off for home that we had no money to offer the poor man. We ordered him to stop at the first available cash machine. “Sorry – out of order”, announced the infernal thing, rapidly flashing the message as if boasting at its lack of forethought.
So, it was back into the taxi, and on to the next hole in the wall. I approached it, confident that this one would allow me into its financial bowels and relieve it of ?20. “This cash machine is unable to dispense cash at this time.” I’m ashamed to say I kicked the bloody thing in sheer frustation. The taxi meter was clicking away louder than ever when I returned to the car.
Eventually, 15 minutes after we set off on a 3 minute journey, we were dropped off at a working cash machine. Not wishing to push our luck, we bade the driver goodnight and stumbled homeward.

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