Dirty Pints and Goodbyes
dirty pint - noun. An unknown, mysterious drink in a pint glass poured by the Scottish manager of the Walkabout. Minimum of 5 shouts of unknown alcohol. To be drunk (skolled) on the bar top in front of crowd by employee who is leaving.
Gordy, the manager, did the (absolutely) unneccessary thing of taking me over his shoulder and spinning me around - "If yer not drunk now, yer going to be".
He was right, from what I can recall, he tried to force the bottle of Sambuca (fucking gross) down my throat but when I protested and ran he returned with two tequila shots - the first one made me vomit in the glass bin. It took me about 15 minutes of "calming down" to have the other one.
I thought it best to make my escape so I thanked everyone I passed, promising to return before I leave, and went upstairs to half-pass out on the staff couch and dribble shit about....sumfin or nuffin....until my taxi came (where I dribbled more shit) to take me home (where I wouldn't stop dribbling shit).
Good points:
I downed the dirty pint in one go. I have never been so proud in my entire life.
Yes. Claire and I are saying adieu to Doncaster.
And saying hello to...
...the Isle of Scilly off the south west of England.
Adventure, yet again. We leave here on the 21st and stay overnight in Penzance where I will reconnect with my pirating roots. Claire and I have taken on hotel work on the island of Saint Mary's which lasts the holiday season (September) after which, we'll be travelling to wherever our hearts desire.
Excitement plus. Even though we'll be working most of the time, there are plenty of things happening on the island - for example, scuba diving - which is a goal of mine. So when I get pissed off with the world, I can go to the world below land and escape (and find pirate booty - apparently, the Isle of Scilly and its' myriad of islands is rife with shipwrecks....and, also, legend has it, is the burial place for King Arthur. Can you say crazy Goonie adventure?).