Whisky in the Jar-o: Part 4

By round four we were all of us looking a little shaky on our feet. Lucky for me, this time around I wasn’t going there to work, but rather sample some of the fine whiskies on offer, indulge in the food and not make too much of a nuisance of myself.

But my day didn’t start then, it started about five minutes after my last blog post, when I cracked the first beer of the day open and Jenni-fuh and her buddy (we’ll call her Tard) joined me.

Shortly after, we went to Peggles’ parents place cause it was his oldest brother’s 32nd birthday party. I don’t have a suitable nickname handy for him, so seeing as he fought in one, I’ll call him ‘War’.



War’s party was awesome. That place, the house is like a touchstone for us all, we’ve partied there so many times that we’ve got it down to an art and Peggles’ dad, Big Red, is possibly the most generous host you will ever find.

He has this deep, commanding voice, the kind that when you hear it you can’t help but listen just because the sound of it is so cool.

We had a good time, all of us, at War’s party. His group of friends are moving into the baby-making phase of life and so there were two tiny human’s at the party, both boys, one was about 3 months old and the other was 18 months.

Those small creatures, they’re pure and clean, they got nothing on their conscious, they’ve done nothing bad, they’ve broken no hearts or laws.

They are in every way imaginable different to me, that’s why I like kids. They remind me of when I was like that, before the myriad of accidents occurred that have left me the way I am.

I’ve always loved the idea of The Catcher In The Rye. I can understand fully why someone would want to be that person, anyone out there who grew up too fast would agree. Problem with growing up too fast is you don’t do it properly and spend a large portion of the rest of your life chasing the childhood you missed out on.



After War’s thing, I headed back home with Jenni-fuh and Tard. Just before we left, Tard asked me if it was okay if we listened to something other than ‘Hootie and the Blowfish’ on the way back home.

‘Is that the closest band you can think of that sounds like Arctic Monkeys?’ I fired back at her.

‘Oh, I like Arctic Monkeys,’ she replied.

‘But you think they sound like Hootie and the Blowfish? Do you listen to music much?’

And that’s howcome I decided to dub her ‘Tard’ on my blog.



I showered and changed for Whisky Fest and headed through there for 6 on the nut. It was cool to be able to finally taste the whisky on offer and I did so with gusto.

Afterward, Stikey, Jacey-got-the-aceys and I went to a club called Latinova which, to be honest, was a bit lame and over crowded.

By 12pm / 1pm we called it a night and headed back home.

I collapsed in bed, alone. Across the country my gorgeous girlfriend lay sleeping in a tiny house on the side of a mountain, a hot waterbottle clutched to her chest instead of me.

Something happened earlier that day that is going to change both our lives in quite a drastic way…

And all I can say is it’s about fucking time.


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