Diary Of Some Sort Of Life – Hags, Pads, smoking fags makes you look cool!

Friday, 17th March, 2017


Giddy highs and being a pillock is order of the day. Nothing new there then…..apart from the giddy highs! No matter how many times the darkness fades, and becomes light, I never really get used to it. There is always more darkness it seems.

That’s quite enough of that silliness……….just one more….

Ok. Done. 


And…….they’re open! Quick, Guinness, quick! Run, run, run. Not that I need an excuse to drink Guinness but, hey!, it’s Pads day. I managed to have two before having to head back to work. 


Things are moving along nicely. Almost “fuck off” time. The great thing about drinking with the hags is, they like an early start. So, if the god’s are smiling, I’ll be half cut by seven. I charged my dad with making coleslaw. I hope he’s remembered. 


My dad was surprised that I asked him if he had forgotten. Of course he hadn’t. The best part was, he told me to check there was enough. There was enough for 20 people! Seeing as only 7 people would be there, I think we will be alright.


5pm: Go to Reds and sort out booze and drugs.

6pm: Collect hag one.

6.15: Collect number 2. 

6.20: Hag 3. 

6.30: Arrival at Cocktails and Dreams.

7pm: Muntered.

I like a well thought out plan.
“All right, this is the plan. We’ll get in there and get wrecked.
Then we’ll eat a pork pie. Then we’ll drop a couple of Surmontils each.
It means we’ll miss out Monday,
but come up smiling Tuesday morning.”

Cocktails and Dreams is at one of the hags houses. Her husband has a, Cocktails and Dreams, neon sign above the rather large drinks cabinet. 

From the film, Cocktail, if you didn’t know that already.


Coleslaw collected from fridge. Usual refineries, then continue as planned.


A little time to relax before collections commence. As you can tell I’ve been a bit “Steve Marriott” obsessed this week, so let’s have a few interesting facts:

Born: 30th January 1947.

Taught himself to play harmonica and ukulele at a very early age. 

At the age of 12, Steve played various roles in the 1960 stage version of Oliver!, at the, now, Noel Coward Theatre. The sang the songs, “Consider Yourself” and “I’d do Anything”, on the Abbey Road recorded, soundtrack. He stayed in the show for 12 months. He got paid £8 a week.

In 1964, Marriott formed the small faces with Ronnie Lane and Kenny Jones. Later joined by Ian McLagan. A young, Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin fame, was a big fan and attended many early gigs.

Steve left, The Small Faces, after a New Years Eve gig in 1968. The later joined Humble Pie with Peter Frampton.

Died: 20th April 1991 in a house fire presumably caused by a cigarette.

I can go on forever. You’ve got the internet. Look into him. He’s great.

What else is there to say. Cool.

A successful evening with the hags.

 All collections achieved and everyone had a lovely time.

Until we ran out of booze and were forced to go the Beehive. We drank mojitos and pressecco and lager and wine and…………?!?!?!!!!?

Being a local, we managed to get in. The landlady, Sheila, is Irish. Say no more.

As you can see. We drank Guinness. It’s against the law, not to, on Pads Day!

At this point, things started to become hazy. I remember saying goodbye to the beautiful hags and getting an Uber back to Reds. I’ll just presume there was much debauchment, alcohol and drugs until day light.

Saturday, 18th March, 2017


A lovely, wobbly, day. The usual 2 for 1’s at the Turtle. A little town wandering. I’m still feeling very upbeat. Slightly jaded, but upbeat. I’m supposed to be meeting up with friends tonight. A missed a meeting with the blonde thing. The fog in my brain prevents coherent recollection. I played my guitar. I watched Assassins Creed and another movie, I believe to be called, Attack of the lederhosen zombies?

Yep! I looked it up. 

Sunday, 19th March, 2017.


A quiet night after all. No events. I’m now just eating some bacon and egg sandwiches before going home. I dunno how to spend the rest of the day. 


Aahh. Quiet. Just me. I’ve sorted out my bits and bobs. All ready for work tomorrow. 

Someone stole my snips at work the other day, so I ordered a new pair. Seeing as I was doing an Amazon order, I thought it would be rude not to order a bottle of Patron. I ordered them yesterday. The snips arrived, but no Patron. Bastards!


I did a little music. Played a lot of Assassins Creed Unity. My body was aching for alcohol, so I retreated to “The Dive”. As usual, it was filled with obnoxious Wankers. Luckily, I found a quiet corner to enjoy my Guinness and catch up on some research and correspondence. A friend sent me a link, to a letter, by Hunter S Thompson. I’ve read it before, but the reminder is important. 


So. Another weekend. Another memory. Another reason to stay alive? I hope my mood stays. 

I got back from the pub and ate as much sherbet as I could find.

A bit of crap TV, then sleep, I think. Let the dream world take me and beg that the dreams are beautiful. 

Leave a Comment. You might win a Prize!?