Never mind Channel 4 threatening to bring Big Brother to our screens again, right here it’s currently Day 2 in the Hangover House and Mary-Jane is realising she can no longer party like it’s 1999.
Back then, a spritely 23-year-old MJ would have bounced back effortlessly and launched enthusiastically straight into the next onslaught on my liver, devoid of concern OR regret.
Currently no longer the case, I am rapidly realising there is absolutely no one I have less in common with than the MJ who wrote her diary inserts circa 1999.
OR the one updating her Facebook statuses, a whole decade later, in 2009. Who even were those people pretending to be me? Let’s hope my bairns never meet them.
How did I get here?
How I arrived at the day 2 hangover, is neither big nor clever.
I am not an advocate for binge drinking. Neither am I, at the ripe old age of almost 46, apparently able to declare I have learnt my lesson.
When an invitation was extended, I ignored inevitable consequences and, desperate for a day off and a little bit of fun, dived right on in.
Someone once told me there is a difference between being happy and being distracted from sadness, and I felt a moment away from all the recent chaos was just the job.
My friend’s gorgeous son, turning 30, hired a house in the Highlands for himself and his similarly aged friends to celebrate.
My friend, myself, and one other of the mammies decided we would be the perfect accompaniment to this soiree and rocked up on Sunday after they’d nailed two days of partying.
We landed at midday, expecting to find a trail of carnage and bodies strewn over floors. Apparently partying in 2022 has changed as much as my ability to handle it.
Outdoor gear? Really?
We arrived in time to find vehicles being loaded with outdoor gear.
Paddleboards, kayaks, and other things I don’t fully understand, being packed into vans, clearly having been used and not just brought as a nod towards a healthy activity.
On entering the very lovely, bordering on pristine, premises, a cleaning sweep had already transpired.
Instead of needing to be ‘hinched’ by the mammies, we found appointed recycling piles, wet clothes hanging on clothes lines and almond milk in the fridge.
I can’t even claim to be organised enough to remember milk along with the weekly shopping, never mind packing vegan BBQ items for a three-night bender.
Out of the 30ish people there, I literally knew four. Even the third mammy was a new friend to me.
A new best friend
We spent our time between Perth and Aviemore putting the world to rights and as she enjoyed my car playlist, I knew we were destined to be great friends.
As the evening wore on, I realised I wasn’t wrong.
Isn’t life wonderful when even as you hurtle towards your 46th birthday, you can still meet and instantly like someone.
Regardless of back stories, circumstance and life experience, there is always room for more joy and love.
When you assure this new person, however cool you might look on social media, you really have two friends and spend most of your time slumped on your couch watching box sets. And merrily do so without fear of reproach or ridicule. These are indeed my people.
Overstaying your welcome?
Did everyone else’s parents always tell you not to overstay your welcome? To not be a nuisance and clean up after yourself?
Does everyone else, to this day, still feel uncomfortable when you stay at someone’s house for too long? Or are you not like me and normal?
My car literally chinked all the way to the Highlands with bottles of booze, as well as crisps, cake, sweets and presents. I need not have worried.
These guys have ‘weekend party requirements’ absolutely nailed. We were welcomed and treated like Queens, bless them.
Our ridiculous music requests were tolerated. They gave up beds for us. Drinks were poured and consumed, extensively. Firepits lit and BBQ food cooked.
We left early on Monday to return to our mundane, more sensible, middle aged responsibilities and I’m exceptionally glad they didn’t see us in our ‘morning after the night before’ state.
Happy birthday Paul, you incredible, lovely man.
