On Saturday, Grangemouth Sports Stadium was host to the "Relay for Life", a very worthy event which saw teams of people walking around the stadium in relay teams over a continuous 24-hour period. The band were asked to go and play to mark the start of this event, which we agreed to do so. It was a non-paying gig, but plays into our 'community focus' agenda, and also raises the profile of the band. And, as I noted above, it was a very worthy event in aid of cancer research. Jackie Bird was there.
Anyway, while this was being done, I arranged with my drinking buddies (see, I have drinking buddies now!) to meet with them in the evening for a quick drink. And so, that evening, on returning from my game, I made the final ever use of my old phone to find out the details of where and when we were meeting. Then I walked the two miles to said pub, and met up with the lads. Apparently, it is now our band's local, by virtue of them displaying the trophy we won in Callendar this season. And they have promised, when we do better next year, to put up a special shelf to display all our prizes.
Later in the evening, we went to a Falkirk nightclub (I think it's the only one, but there may be another), which these days is called "Storm". This is the same club I visited once before.
Yeah. It's rubbish.
For all that Saturday night is supposed to be their busiest night of the week, the place seemed really quite devoid of people. Perhaps most of Falkirk actually travel to Glasgow of a Saturday night, and the club is therefore busier on Thursdays and Sundays.
The other issue was that I rapidly came to the conclusion that I was just too cool for the place. And that's a fairly damning verdict right there: I've rarely been too cool for anything in my life. But there it is, and I don't think that was an inaccurate assessment.
Anyway, I eventually got to bed at 3:15 in the morning, and got up at 9:30. One of the advantages of 'nightclub measures' is that, while they cheat you horribly, there's so little actual alcohol in anything they serve that you wake up quite clear-headed. That said, with only six hours of sleep, I was always going to be suffering.
Still, I manfully made the effort to get up, eat breakfast, dress, shower, get changed into dry clothes, and head to church. Only to find them in the midst of a PC meltdown, with the resident expert nowhere in sight, and therefore to be called into immediate service. It seems God really can be quite mischievous at times.
Oh, and I'm never partying again. At least, not until Saturday, when I'm off to an eighteenth birthday party.
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