We did a massive long cycle from Wadebridge to Padstow back to Wadebridge then to Bodmin and back to Wadebridge. More than 20 miles, some of it in the dark. That was glorious.
We found a small gallery in Padstow and got some complimentary champagne. We necked the stuff, gave the paintings a courtesy once-over and asked if there was anywhere else giving away free booze. The lady said no, but would we like to hear a very boring anecdote about macaroons. We said yes and immediately regretted it.
We went to a seal sanctuary. There were penguins there too. One of the penguins wasn't eating. I said it must be depressed. The handler corrected me saying he was off his food because he was breeding. I said breeding has the same effect on me. She did not laugh.
We went to Fifteen, the Jamie Oliver place, where I sidestepped an enormous amount of peer pressure to get the octopus, ordering instead the lamb ragu ('well done me' I thought later as I warily eyed the suckers on my friend's plate). We spent several minutes entertaining ourselves with filling out the restaurant feedback form, inviting all the attractive staff to join us in Newquay for the evening ('bring a bottle and a sense of loathing'). The light-hearted nature of our doodling was marred by the ill-advised use of the word 'queer', which we all came to regret bitterly.
The heaviest night out or B.N.O. (Big Night Out) was B.N.O. III, which was Sunday night. A night I will never remember, owing mostly to the rum punch (which we all came to regret). We made few friends and lost many braincells. We talked to everyone in the pub and they all grew to hate us, almost every conversation concluding in an angry exchange of expletives - choice quote: 'If you don't get it you can fuck off' (who this was and what we were talking about I will never know). The breadcrumbs in the bed were a clue to how we had finished off the evening. And indeed we had, quite sordidly, eaten an entire loaf of bread (which we all came to regret).
The planned surfing lesson kept being put back a day (Due to alcohol, laziness and the obscene over-prioritising of food consumption) and in the end Newquay went unsurfed completely.
I have to say the best bit for me was when I watched Corrie Omnibus on Sunday morning on a 52-inch telly. Peter Barlow fell off the wagon again and I felt a warm comfort in knowing that nothing ever really changes.
We went to Fifteen, the Jamie Oliver place, where I sidestepped an enormous amount of peer pressure to get the octopus, ordering instead the lamb ragu ('well done me' I thought later as I warily eyed the suckers on my friend's plate). We spent several minutes entertaining ourselves with filling out the restaurant feedback form, inviting all the attractive staff to join us in Newquay for the evening ('bring a bottle and a sense of loathing'). The light-hearted nature of our doodling was marred by the ill-advised use of the word 'queer', which we all came to regret bitterly.
The heaviest night out or B.N.O. (Big Night Out) was B.N.O. III, which was Sunday night. A night I will never remember, owing mostly to the rum punch (which we all came to regret). We made few friends and lost many braincells. We talked to everyone in the pub and they all grew to hate us, almost every conversation concluding in an angry exchange of expletives - choice quote: 'If you don't get it you can fuck off' (who this was and what we were talking about I will never know). The breadcrumbs in the bed were a clue to how we had finished off the evening. And indeed we had, quite sordidly, eaten an entire loaf of bread (which we all came to regret).
The planned surfing lesson kept being put back a day (Due to alcohol, laziness and the obscene over-prioritising of food consumption) and in the end Newquay went unsurfed completely.
I have to say the best bit for me was when I watched Corrie Omnibus on Sunday morning on a 52-inch telly. Peter Barlow fell off the wagon again and I felt a warm comfort in knowing that nothing ever really changes.
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