Hypothetically, one teenage night a mate and I decided to find bicycle transport home from the pub. Which led to some ’trading up’, and hypothetically, a couple dozen people woke up to new bikes. The rise in bike lock sales that weekend in my village was probably a co-incidence.
So, what’s the most interesting way you’ve ever made it home from the pub?
All the way down the high street, across a roundabout at the bottom of the hill and and into the front garden in a gateway shopping trolley. Trouble is, I was own my own jumped in and free wheeled away. A miracle I am still alive.
My brother and a few friends left the pub one night and instead of driving the twenty minutes or so home from the lower High Street in Watford, we took a slight diversion – via the Lleyn Peninsula. We watched the sun rise somewhere near Pwllheli – a night I will never forget …
I was with them, by the way …
I used to ride my bike all over town (which I happen to think is very rock n roll). I was once pulled over by the police for erratic bicycling. Funnily enough, I was sober, but on my way TO a bar.
I used to work in a pub starting cleaning up and setting up from 6am…. after we’d finished the lock in and been dragged off to carry on the night.. me and often the bar manager had to be pointed back to the pub to start work with no sleep.. kind of turning your question about face(d). Luckily it shut from 3-6 in the afternoon so we power napped on the pool tables.
(if the lock ins got out of hand – we’d often clean around bodies, sleeping under the tables- only waking them at opening time – usually to start again… the statement: “our pub is so rough, we don’t have sawdust on the floor, we have punters” was often used)
Another of the pubs.. we had a ritual – Thursday evening before Glastonbury weekend, we’d turn up definitely not going to the festie – by closing time – a van (and Driver) had been found and we’d wake up having scaled the fence and found friends tents to crash in – inside Glasto in the dark an hour and a half away from the pub… with about £20 between us to last 3 days…
Then I was sat in a pub one night and saw the Berlin wall on tele with people scaling it…. I gabbed a couple of jumpers and started hitching.. 3 days of hitching and possibly 3000 miles later… I was on the Berlin Wall.
…..sometimes my way home from the pub took a few detours.
I’ve been tamed now.
Beer bike, anyone? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkulQvz-efw
Well, not me, but my daughter’s partner once climbed the fence into someone’s front garden on his way home from the pub and stole a concrete donkey. (Not a concrete cow, though this did happen in MK.) He subsequently fell in the canal, donkey and all.
This incident is now immortalised in Matt’s song Concrete Donkey.
When I was in the RAF I was stationed at Compton Bassett in Wilts, my best mate was called Jimmy Ure, from Glasgow, Mary’s brother. One Friday night he and another mate went into Calne for a night of boozing [he later told me that he'd had 14 pints and 14 whiskey chasers!] When they took a cab back around midnight they knew that they couldn’t pass the guardroom so they got out right next to the fence where the barracks were and scrambled over the wire fence. In their drunken state they’d forgotten that there was a bed of nettles there about 3 – 4ft high and extending about 40ft from the fence, they tumbled into it and were totally stung on every square inch of exposed skin; they were both COVERED in nettle stings. It lasted through the weekend.
I’d love to know how DsMam & I got back from the Rum Boogie Cafe on Beale Street to our hotel, The Peabody, that night during our Memphis holiday! Sadly, severalteen Tequila Sunrises prevent me from having any conscious memory of the event.
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I was cycling back from my friend’s one afternoon, rather worse for wear, and I evidently fell off. First thing I knew about it was a very kind couple picking me up off the road, wiping the blood off with paper towels from the garage, opposite, then driving me home with my bike in the boot. If you’re out there, thank you! My ex and I then got a taxi to the hospital (we didn’t have a car), where they stitched me up, and then we had to walk 3 miles home ‘cos we had no money left for the bus. At least I’d sobered up, by then.
Back of a cop car, as new students, having decided to climb over the fence into (closed) Greenwich Park for a look at the lights of London from the top of the hill, next to the Observatory. I mean, who’d know that there would be security? There’s only some old clocks there, isn’t there?
I got dropped off at work in a Police car once. I asked them to park up round the corner so no one would see. But that’s another story.