Ana & Papitu

I’m finally managing to chronicle the events of last weekend, after I vacuum-cleaned my house. I gets this call from Ana & Papitu, who were visiting their old stomping grounds in Manchester for 4 days from Valencia. I had to hook up with them. So I find myself at the Drop Inn (ha ha) at 8p.m on a Friday after a luxurious meal in Rusholme, greeting my old friends A & P as well as James & Louisa. Then, I noticed a couple of more Spanish faces, and soon the pub was bursting at the seams with Iberian comrades. Most of them were known to me through football, or more accurately through the auspices of A & P, who were like a cementing force in the Spanish community while they lived here. It was funny to note that a year had passed since I saw them, and yet nothing appeared more natural than for us to settle down in our old, familiar routines. Then followed a stint at Big Hands, which chucked us out at 2a.m. Not having had our fill, we decided to test Tony Blair’s new Britain by finding a 24 hour drinking hole. And find it we did. I crept home in the wee hours of the morning.
Saturday night was much of the same, only more so, if you know what I mean đŸ˜‰ We ended up in a house party where the rules on Class As were a bit more relaxed, and I only made it home at 8 in t’morn’.

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1 Comment

  1. And you’ve been sleeping off the hangover ever since, right? đŸ™‚ Oh, the joys of unemployment!

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