West Calder Main Street
My First Drunken Night and
Hangover
I have never been much of a drinker.
However, this tale starts when I was 18, the start of the legal of drinking age
in Scotland. I had already tried some
vodka which I thought was okay but never enough to get really drunk and GOD
forbid that my parents should find out!
This Friday evening started
with my band practice in West Calder, I played the cornet in West Calder Brass
Band. As soon as the practice finished, I was off to one of the local pubs for
my future brother-in-law’s stag night.
It was a big adventure for I had never been to a stag night before and
this one was important, my new brother-in-law to be who was also a friend too.
I had lager, vodka, whisky,
rum in quantity and remember I wasn’t a drinker. There were a couple of my other friends there
that night, Jimmy and Peter and they left to go home with me. I was legless and
so was Peter. Jimmy was the soberest of
the three of us, and he managed to keep us upright and walking. We first headed to the chip shop at the top of
West Calder and as we approached it there was a policeman on foot patrol. Well, I was 18 and it was legal for me to
drink alcohol and I had to tell him this in uncertain terms, this was spiced
with some choice spicy language which must have carried for my young sister Helen, was
quite a bit further down the road with her friends and heard me and my choice language much to
her chagrin. The policeman was great though and just smiled good naturedly,
letting me finish and letting me go on my way home with Peter and Jimmy. Peter was first to be dropped off because he
lived in West Calder, the three of us got to his front door and his Mum
answered as Peter, looking like a zombie staggered in the door. Jimmy and I then had a mile walk to Polbeth
where we both lived. Jimmy had to manoeuvre me up a flight of stairs to get to
my front door and he held on to me as he knocked the door. I think it was my Mum who answered as I literally
fell in the door, I think Jimmy was quite glad to leave as quickly as
possible. My mother was deeply concerned
about my state; however, my father was quite understanding knowing I would
learn my lesson. I am sure my Mum made me a tea, anyway I am sure neither
parent (I don’t know about my sisters) would have got much sleep that night because
I was projectile vomiting in the loo frequently through the night. In these
days I worked on a Saturday morning in Edinburgh so at the due time (7ish) I
had a little breakfast (I think) and tea before getting the bus into Edinburgh,
I felt terrible and must have looked like death warmed up. The 30-minute bus
journey seemed to take an eternity and I just felt dreadful. I managed to keep going
through the morning and then it was time for home and back on another bus. I
still felt terrible. When I got home, I only had time for a brief lunch, as
much as I could stomach, because after a quick change into my brass band
uniform and collecting my cornet, I was off to march and play at East Calder
Gala Day (like a fiesta day), I have no idea how I managed. When I got home, I must have been starting to
recover because I went out to the dancing to West Calder Poly (that is what we
did on a Saturday night in these days and there was no alcohol served there). I
had phoned my friend Peter to see if he wanted to go but he was still feeling too
ill. I walked a girl home (about 2 or 3 miles) and then walked home again. Oh,
the resilience of youth. After that traumatic Friday night, I learned my lesson
(mostly). I have only every been really drunk about 3 or 4 times in my life and
that I believe was quite enough for me.
Just a little foot note, I
found out a few days later that when Peter’s mother went to check on him that
night, she found him in a prayer like position over his bed (never having made
it into it), in a drunken sleep midst counting what money he had left after the
night out.
