A FEW cheeky early beers followed by a couple of sambucas, falling on your face and creeping into bed at 2.30. You could say it was just a normal Friday night.
Unfortunately this wasn't MY Friday night, I am talking about Mrs Rippers here. She obviously feels that someone has got to carry the mantle now that I spend most of my Friday evenings working and the rest of it trying to get home to the godforsaken back end of beyond known as Shoeburyness, Essex.
I finally received a text from my loved one at 10.55am this morning, having tried to inquire of her well-being a few times during the previous night and this morning. The message I got was that she had gone out for her flatmate Dan's birthday and visited a number of lively hostelries in God's Own city, before taking to the dancefloor with gusto after the sambucas had taken their toll. Good girl.
Unfortunately, at some stage in the early hours she decided it was well past her bed time - that normally being 10.30 on the dot - and as she left the club she missed her footing, falling over and scraping her face on the concrete. Oh, dear. Luckily Leighton - Dan's other half - was on hand to pick her up and send her on her way without the need of a 999 call and a night in casualty, and I don't mean as an extra on the TV programme of that name which is, for the time being, filmed in Bristol.
I guess I should count myself lucky, though. So far I have seen no video footage of her wrapping her tights around her head, stripping off her top and shouting "1, 2, 3, 4, 5" at the top of her voice.
As for me, it has been a very sedate week it has to be said. I journeyed up here on Wednesday at 5am in the morning as I had secured an extra shift but didn't want to leave the day before. I parked up very conveniently at Upminster station, which meant I had only a short train ride to Limehouse, the nearest station to my office. Perfect.
On Friday I decided I would follow the same scenario, but it all went t*ts up. I had forgotten that there was a train strike in one area and that everyone who usually got those trains would adopt the same policy. So when I arrived at Upminster the station car park was full. Bugger. With no other place in the godforsaken town to park I then drove to Laindon, only to find the same result. In the event I had no option than to drive all the way in to work and, fortunately, was able to park for free in the Tobacco Dock car park. This has been a very handy facility for Screws employees over the years but I just happened to find it on the last day before it shuts its doors forever. Just my luck.
As for cooking, I did rustle up a quick carbonara for the Fat Kid and her "Bezzie" Carly on Wednesday night. Didn't matter to the Fat Kid that I had been up since five in the morning. She isn't a great cook, my daughter, and has a very persuasive manner about her. In the end it was much appreciated.
After my long drive in and out of work on Friday by the time I got home it was pushing 10pm. At least the local chip shop/chinese is pretty good in Shoeburyness so I treated myself to Fish, chips and curry sauce before crashing out. Probably about the same time Mrs R was getting into her first Sambuca, I reckon.