I went out. Out out.

I went out. Out out. 

I went out. Out out.
I went out. Out out.

I am in my mid forties, but I still go out. Sometimes to my local pub, sometimes even further afield to sample other establishments. But recently I went out out. Or did I?

This adventure was going to take  a precision plan involving a bus, a train and a fair bit of walking. Exhausted before leaving the house and I still needed to iron a shirt. 

Out out.

The first thing I noticed, there are a lot of young people. They are everywhere. They are young. 

The next thing I noticed was how rubbish modern music is. I have kids, I listen to modern music a lot. I don’t have any choice. But in an ‘out’ environment, it becomes amplified and glorified to another level. This prompted a heated debate on this very topic. 

Not my words. But those of another Dad. However, along the lines of my own mutterings.

“You will spend 60% of the night arguing with your mates that everything is shit since the Stone Roses split, asking why is the DJ using a laptop rather than vinyl? and listing the reasons that Simon Cowell should be put on trial in the Hague for crimes against humanity.”

Rather quickly the decision was made to leave the youth behind and go find a more suitable bar instead.

The type of bar you get handed a menu on arrival and with the amount that goes into each drink it starts to resemble a meal

I went out. Out out.
I went out. Out out.

Aww, bliss. Softened lights, comfy seating and no loud shouty music. Normal conversation about the regret of  not taking over the world with your idea of dimly lit, basement piano bars, all having a 1930’s speakeasy theme can now commence. 

Sensible topics, such as favourite Glastonbury moments or the daftest  thing you did in your own youth started to appear around the table and we all became experts in world politics. Normality had returned. 

So, in short I failed at going out out. But I did venture out and had a bloomin’ good time in the process. Managing to get the last train home, I was tucked up in bed by a  ‘later than normal, but sensible’ time. 

It appears that my, getting the first train home the following day days are well and truly over. I will leave that to the youths. 

Becoming an adult

Instead of regret, I woke with the feeling that perhaps I am officially an adult now.

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