Sunday Morning

It was our second night in Newquay. I don't remember much of it. What I do remember is being gutted that The Kooks gig was sold out, and I couldn't scalp tickets. I remember half watching Barcelona play Manchester United. I remember a 6ft Ginger Ninja covering his jeans in salsa, and trying to use doritos to clean up the mess. I remember waking from a nap and coming downstairs to find an empty house, only to have everyone appear and disappear drunkingly throughout the night. I remember being propositioned via txt while the boy in question sat next to me on the couch. I remember playing pool, and for every ball I sunk there was a skittle shot. I remember a Gun Slinger coming in after fighting on the street, being so remorseful that he'd beat someone up that he gave his victim his cider with his apology. I remember dirty txts from a friend whose phone was stolen. I remember that there was a ridiculous amount of alcohol. A stupid amount of alcohol.

But that is how we roll in Newquay. Good times.