After the noted lack of drinking in London, I jumped at the offer of a beer from Ian. I am staying with some relatives in Soutport. It's a coastal town just north of Liverpool and Manchester. A really nice place that serves as a a bit of a holiday town for the people of the bigger cities nearby. It's on the coast of the Irish Sea and it was really good to see the water again. I don't knwo what it is about the ocean but it feel so right right for me to be near it and I always love sitting by the shore a looking out, dreaming of sailing away to somewhere exotic.
After some excellent home cooked meals, that were quiet a change from the cheese on toast in London, it was deffinately time to see the nightlife of this sleepy little town. Little did I know, this town had more pubs than we do back home in Newcastle. So the pub crawl and and town tour that Ian took me on had plenty of flavour. We went from the black clothed rock pub, wooden floorboarded metro bar, to the sticky carpeted R&B pub, to the traditional english real ale pub, to the 'Aussie' bar called the springbok traveller. After sampling many local brews I decided to get the men to work. Yes thats right I danced solo in a bit of a dive to ' I come from a land down under'. Great stuff.
Then she spotted me. I knew she was checking me out, so I sat back and did some detective work from across the bar. While engaging Ian in typical pissed shit talk I peered over the rim of my pint of Becks. She seemed to be dancing with her best friend, or she was a lesbian. No, No best friend, definately best friend. Who else was she with. Older people, a largish group. Ten or so. Celebrating something. That's got to be her mum. Yeah shes out with her mum. What to do, what to do. Keep boozing and carry on with the tour or dig the heels in and have a go. Yeah, she is hot enough and I'm pissed enough.
After catching her eye and a flash of the pearly whites, I knew she was keen. So I danced with her for a bit and we chatted a bit although it was too loud for anything deep and meaningful. She did however forget to mention a few glaring fact. Not to wory I wouldn't be announcing it either.
So Ian wants to get on with the tour and meet up with some friends. I'm keen for a snog. So I write Ian's mobile number on my arm and we part ways for the moment. I sat back down at the table and get chatting to the girls brother, who is a spitting image of Ben Shaw. Please note I clearly can't remember any names. So the shawsy lookalike is an alright bloke. We shit talk for a bit about backpacking and Australia and what not. I then started talking to the girls mum's friend. Another older woman of 50 or so. She was also a really nice lady until she dropped the bombshell.
Imagine all of this that Liverpool accent, the beatles accent.
Old lady: 'you know that girl you dancing with?'
Me: ' yeah, yeah she's nice isn't she.'
Old lady: 'yeah she is. she also has fours kids.'
Me: 'Um, four children?'
Old Lady: 'Yeah four'
Me: Silence....
About this time I realised how pissed I was. I tried to continue talking to the old lady about children and how it was good that the girl had four children. All the time assesing the fastest way out of the pub. I turned back to Ben Shaw and asked how old she was.
Ben Shaw: 'I'm 25 and shes older than me. How old are you. 18, 19.'
Me: 'Um, I'm 21'
Ben Shaw: 'Yeah she's ten years older than you. 31'
Me: Silence....
I turned and faced foreward looking at the girl, nah fuck this shit. Ian wlaked back in. Don't talk Ian, lets go.
We caught a cab home and Ian warmed some sake on the stove. After our little night cap we went to bed. My head spun as I lay down. No way that is staying down. Nothing like a chunder to put you to bed. Lessons learned: Pints are considerably larger than schooners, sake is actually very nice, southport has some great pubs ans stay away Ben Shaw's sister.
