Out of work and into the streets of Camden on a saturday night. The guys all had beers after work but I settled for just watching whilst they rolled their cigarettes and opened cold cans. Many plans had been made but nothing materialised and once again i found myself walking home with Joe. We walked to a local takeaway just to pass some time before the inevetable bed and squandered money on what can only be described as school dinners.
Walking round Camden at 1am is a strange experience sober, you notice so much more. I counted atleast 4 girls crying in the space of two blocks, 3 fights, 3 police cars and 4 ambulances in about 20 minutes but still yearned to be part of the crowd that surrounded me, packed into room of sticky floors and rolling eyes, a testament to the endurance of youth but no, not for me. I saw the crowded pubs, the stumbling hordes, the gruesome kisses and raised voices and thought to myself i'm better off walking home, there's no way I can play catch up with these, they're too far gone.
Home now, into bed, got a 10 am start tommorow then Sunday night and all of Monday off. My frist in a week, a usual 'get pissed' situation. What do I do on my fucking nights off? It's going to be seriously dull.
On a brighter note though, my exercise is going swell! Bags of energy, nothing to use it on.
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