Tuesday, September 25, 2012

£1 shots are a bad idea. three in quick succession is idiocy.

I'm doing nothing for the Irish stereotype here in Scotland. The other day I suggested to my German housemates that we'd go for some drinks. It was about five in the evening and they were stunned. My reasoning was that the sun was shining and in Scotland, as in Ireland, that is a rarity. In Ireland, if the sun is shining, it's a cause for celebration, and therefore a cause for pints. Apparently that's not a German thing. (Neither is dressing up fancy or wearing a lot of make-up. I'm learning things about other cultures; Erasmus is working.)

Anyway, yesterday evening, my Scottish housemate expressed a desire for alcohol and I didn't need much persuading. Threw on some casual clothes and hit the Students' Union with a bang. No, not a bang. More of a mumble, really. The place was empty. The lights were still on. The Union was still in day-time mode. Granted, it was about 5 pm. So we crossed the road to Spar and grabbed a couple of bottles of wine. Ate cheese and crackers and drank white wine while imagining I was French in my housemate's room before heading back to the Union at seven and immediately demanding the three cheapest shots on the menu. £1 a pop? Can't go wrong. Except that shots for £1 is a recipe for disaster and I went very wrong.

Cut to two hours later and I'm asleep in bed, having eaten the contents of the fridge, not before trying to kiss a German, a Pole, and a Scotsman. (I succeeded with the Scot. He looked like someone from home but with a Scottish accent. It was confusing. I think I called him by the wrong name a couple of times.)

Today I had The Fear. Woke up at 9:40 am for a lecture that started at ten. Throw on some clothes and a hat (to hide my bird's nest hair) and rush to the lecture which had thankfully been delayed. The Fear manifested itself when I followed some people on my course to the Students' Union during a break in the lecture. I was too tired and hungover to do much speaking and I absolutely refused to make eye contact with anyone in the Union, vaguely remembering my tragic behaviour of the night before.

After the lecture (Research Methods - lovely and familiar), I went back to bed for a few hours, then went to Frankie & Benny's with Fiona for a meal that cost too much money and made me feel ill. Fucking goat's cheese.

Lesson learned: I am also a lunatic in Scotland.

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