Wednesday 21st July 2021
I think it’s important that, every now and again, you take a step back from everything and look at how your life is going. Last week was my first week at DHL and at the end of my first day on Monday the prospect of working 9-5.30 five days a week for the rest of my life seemed daunting, disillusioning and depressing. I doubtless need to explain to you why I felt like this because I don’t think anybody particularly enjoys having to go to work. However, I’ve managed to make my peace with it because I realised the following two things – I know that once my debts are paid, which won’t take as long as I first imagined, I will be free to do as I please and, ultimately, it’s a choice of sacrificing my time in order to work or sacrificing my lifestyle, and we all know that I will drop down dead before I do that. In all fairness, the job doesn’t seem that bad and I’ve already made some new friends, but this isn’t what will get me through it. What will get me through it is the incredibly exciting things that the income from this job will enable me to carry on doing, and that’s what I’m going to tell you about today, because who really wants to hear the ins and outs of customs processing? I fucking don’t.
Last weekend I went to Liverpool with the inbreds; myself, Morris, Brooks, Georgie, Kiera, Chloe, Nicola, Phoebe, Izzy and Niamh. The night went about exactly as you’d imagine it would; far too much alcohol, several pointless arguments and enough money spent to finance a small nation. My personal highlight of the night was Izzy being sick down her own leg in the bar and then pretending it didn’t happen, although the endless amount of terrifyingly politically incorrect quotes emanating from Tom Brooks was a close second, my favourite of which was “I don’t like gays but you’re alright sometimes”. We went to a beautiful restaurant on the docks that did a bottomless dinner, which I didn’t realise was a thing, but it absolutely is and it was fantastic – two courses and unlimited drinks for £45 which, when the main course is steak and chips, is about as good as it gets in my humble opinion. I like to think I’m quite a cultured person and I would have loved to go wandering around some of Liverpool’s museums or galleries but, at the same time, I don’t think I’d have enjoyed that as much as I did getting disgustingly drunk with my oldest and dearest friends (and Chloe).
It’s the little things on a night like that which make it so fun and memorable; I got kicked out of a smoking area by a scary bouncer because I jumped the queue (it was an accident I promise), I sang that loud in an Irish bar that I almost lost my voice (can you imagine how awful that would be for everyone), I did so many tequila shots that I nearly joined Izzy in being sick on myself (I didn’t because I’m not a tramp) and a guy in the takeaway at the end of the night told me he loved my nails and tattoos, so naturally I fell in love on the spot and told him he was beautiful. It’s the little things the day after that make it a memorable experience too; Chloe and Izzy looking (and smelling) as if they were homeless, Brooks ordering two pints of carling at 11.30am when we went to get food (as if you needed more proof that he’s an alcoholic), and spending an hour on platform twelve of Crewe train station watching TikToks and abusing each other because some trains had been cancelled. What better way to spend a weekend?
Being the genius that I am, I thought that going for a pint on Sunday evening might sort me out, hair of the dog and all that, so I enlisted Liam and off we went to the pub. Well, the waiter forgot to put our food order through and offered us free drinks to apologise, so one pint quickly turned into five and it’s safe to say I didn’t look (or feel) my best in the office on Monday morning. Nonetheless, I ploughed through the day and after a full English I felt much better. To give DHL their due, their canteen is fantastic. That evening, Liam and I went for a wander and it was then, as we sat smoking and watching the sunset, that I took my opportunity to step back and appreciate that life isn’t bad at all really. In fact, I don’t think my life has ever been better – is there many better ways to spend a Monday evening that walking around a disused quarry doing fuck all with one of your best mates?
It seems, however, that I’ve taken my new job as permission to spend whatever I please (I will pay the debt off, I promise) because, on Tuesday, after playing my best ever round of golf with Liam at lunchtime, GV and I set off to Manchester to watch England play Pakistan at Old Trafford. After checking in to our 4* hotel (would you expect any less?), we headed to Wetherspoons for a few cheeky pre-match pints, and I was amazed to find a Wetherspoons that is literally called Wetherspoons. How had I never noticed this in my previous visits to Manchester? Incredible. Once we got to the ground, it was everything I expected it to be, and I loved it; shit chants, eye-wateringly expensive alcohol, gross portaloos, an amazing atmosphere and a sense that I was exactly where I should be. In all honesty I can’t really remember that much of the match because I was very drunk, but I know for a fact that I will be going to watch England again in the not too distant future. The one thing I do remember is a very fat bloke running topless onto the pitch before being tackled by a rather angry steward – does it get any more English than that?
Before leaving Manchester earlier today we had Wagamamas for lunch, which is the first time I’ve ever tried it and I was impressed, followed by a wander around Manchester Art Gallery. I felt as though I should try and squeeze at least one vaguely civilised activity into my week at some point, assuming you wouldn’t class cricket as civilised. Everything else aside, just walking through Manchester was nice enough in itself, it’s easily my favourite city in England and it always brings back pleasant memories. Unfortunately, I actually have to go to work tomorrow, which is a pain in the arse in all honesty, but on Friday I’ll be heading down to my beloved Ascot with my darling Elia to watch the ponies, so I can’t complain too much. My poor American Express card is going to be knackered by Sunday.
Monday 26th July 2021
Ascot. Where the upper class of British society comes face to face with the peasantry, where the sports of kings is cheered on by the workers, where just below the elegance of the royal box there lies empty stella cans and a million fag ends. There is nowhere I’ve been that manages to cater to and perfectly encapsulate the differences in the English people in such a uniquely English way. I fucking love it.
I played another round of golf before leaving for Windsor on Friday and I once again beat my personal best, which is nice because it’s reassuring and rewarding to see the work I’ve put in starting to pay off. I also shot lower than Adam which is good because I like beating people but no real achievement because he’s shit anyway and half his club heads weren’t even attached to the club properly.
After collecting my darling Elia from her Mum and Dads we set off on the 140 mile drive, which consists largely of motorways and roadworks and is possibly one of the most painfully dull journeys you’ll ever do. When we arrived at the hotel we went straight down for dinner and I enjoyed one of the nicest pizzas I have had in a very long time, accompanied by a bottle of sauvignon of course. Perhaps one day in the distant future I’ll get bored of dining out, but I doubt that day will come anytime soon.
The excitement I feel when I wake up and know I’ve got a day at the races ahead of me is quite difficult to express, but I can assure you it is plentiful, especially when it’s Ascot. We went for a wander into Old Windsor to get some cigarettes and have breakfast before getting ready and ordering a taxi to the racecourse. There is no feeling quite like arriving at Ascot, it’s like a mini city in the middle of nowhere full of people united in their desire to spend the day drinking and gambling, and it never fails to give me goosebumps. I’m not really sure why I take Elia to these things because she hates gambling and she thinks horse racing is awful, yet she always seems to enjoy the day just as much, if not more, than I do. She is a strange woman.
Again, it went exactly as you’d expect it to; I lost a lot of money, drank a lot of gin, smoked too many cigarettes and, as if the day wasn’t English enough already, I simultaneously managed to get wet in the rain whilst also getting slightly sunburnt. It was rather peculiar being surrounded by so many people with no masks or social distancing, but then at the same time it felt like the greatest thing in the world just to have some real normality back. Several people told Elia and I how good we looked, which helped boost the ego a little bit (not that it needed it), and we even managed to accidentally sneak into the posh enclosure without even realising (I obviously just looked like I deserved to be there). I can’t think of many better ways to spend a day.
We went out for dinner that evening and visited Windsor Castle the next day, but I can’t be arsed to go on about that to be honest, I’ve actually had to go to work today so I’m tired. I just want to say this – I absolutely love my life.
I hope you’re all well. Stay safe.
