Weekend

I woke up on Saturday to find my bed full of broken glass

I'd been out drinking the night before

What I think happened is this:

On entering my room I had banged against my bookcase. On top of the bookcase is the vase that holds my pens and coloured pencils and the empty Hellmans mayonnaise jar that holds my tin whistles

I must have sent these flying. The Hellmans mayonnaise jar collided with the rail at the end of my bed and shattered.

Rather than clean it up, I must have just got into bed and passed out.

Some of the shards of glass were quite big. I was lucky not to cut myself.

The last thing I remember from the night before is being told that the girl I had been calling Angela all night was actually called Andrea. No big deal. God knows what happened after that.

Last night I left the movie, wandered the streets drinking whiskey from a hip flask, turned down an invitiation to a soul night, met Old Roger (from Leeds) who took me to the CCC club - The Catholic C-something Club? All drinks were two pounds. There were some fruity ladies there and Donna who didn't recognise me but then when I finally penetrated her alcoholic fugg loudly and volubly told me and everyone else around 'Oh I remember you! We made love once! Why did we only do it the once?' She's living with a fella now so after some ass-tappage (which stopped when she said 'Why are you tapping my ass?') I left.

I missed the last train again so sat with some drink and drug affected buskers in Cornmarket. The bloke was from Dublin and I stupidly encouraged him to play Irish folk songs which resulted in a few close confronations with meatheads in our welcoming, multi-cultural city. He made loads of money off hot ladies though. There's some unbelievably attractive women staggering about the snow filled streets of Belfast at witching hour.

Then I walked up to Botanic via the red light district and got propostioned by two prostitutes ('looking for business, love) before getting a £25 taxi home in the snow.

Another great weekend.