Fresh Prince of Glen Ayre

When I said the next post will be epic I had something in mind, but now I’ve completely forgotten.

After finishing my exams on 25th January I had time to kill until lectures started on Monday. I took a trip to Mohassin’s new ‘home’ of Southampton to celebrate his 19th last weekend. After debate over getting a lift from London to Southampton and nearly being charged £60 for the return journey we decided on a considerably cheaper coach journey. Once again leaving Sheffield proved to be a bit problematic. Due to signalling problems I had to change at Derby and catch another train onto St Pancras. It wasn’t too bad this time but it seems a pattern is starting to show.

 

I got into London and after a few celebratory pints with the Genetics students in Bar One before leaving Sheff – I was kind of in the mood to go out. Instead, I got home and tried for decent night’s sleep for the first time in months. A drunken call from my flatmate who managed to lock himself out without people’s phone numbers and my Mum vomiting early in the morning stopped this. The coach was bearable and made more jokes when we decided call Mohassin to collect us an hour before we were due into Southampton. He wasn’t too happy about the fact we sent him to a non-existent courtyard and then a fake pub. As soon as we got past the traffic and finally arrived, we hit the booze and in particular Jasmin’s Rum Cake which tasted so good and was more rum than cake.

 

Jesters (given the title of worst nightclub in Britain, gaining the title after the previous worst club shut) is somewhere with cheap drink, similar to Corporation in Sheffield. Although that is really all it has going for it. Puddles of sick are not cleaned up on nights out and flooded toilets are common. The smoking area and tiny dance floor are the more popular spots. I got more drunk as the night went on, spending about 40quid, much of which went on a drink called a Jesticle which had four alcoholic shots in it and then juice despite tasting just like fruit juice. The rest of the night including getting back to Montefiore Halls was just a blur and I woke up sitting upright on a kitchen chair with my vest down my trousers?

 

At the coach station we sat in a little theatre place where we caught jokes at the shaggy haired man running out calling for a first aider to the men’s toilets. I jokingly said someone probably wet themselves, however, after a while we discovered a man had fully zipped his cock in his jeans and was writhing on the toilet floor in agony. I was literally IN TEARS. (I guess you had to be there!)

 

The coach back was a lot more swift and I found myself at Victoria in no time, about three hours too early for my return train up north. I was so bored I bought an earlier ticket for £30! When I got back to Sheffield it was raining as it usually does, but I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

I went to my first ever headphone disco that night, which was interesting but a bit screwy when both channels play cheese/ crap songs. Lion King and Chase and Status songs were my personal favourites.

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