My first few posts on here have been about some pretty cool adventures. Although these adventures did actually happen, and I was fairly honest about my incredible inability to succeed in any of them, I don’t want to pretend I’m a poor mans Bear Grylls, constantly undertaking extreme endeavours.
Pretending to be something you’re not is a terrible habit to get in to. That’s why, if I could, I would go back in time and find my younger self putting his pants over his trousers pretending to be a superhero and roundhouse kick him in the face until his teeth did the can-can. Yes, twenty-one year old me sure liked to be something he wasn’t.
But twenty-two year old me knows that every moment of life is amazing, and if you live it right, you won’t find yourself wishing for anything more.
So this blog won’t be about climbing a mountain, or criticising mainstream religion. Instead, it will be about green trousers and enchiladas.
A long time ago in a land far away, the fourth of February and in my bed to be exact, I was looking at the time on my phone, thinking about how I was supposed to pick Rhys up and drive to Sam’s house about twenty minutes ago, and wondering at what point I would admit to myself that I was going to be late. That time came when Sam called me and asked me when I would get to him. I told him I was on my way and he should expect me soon. With not a moment to lose, I rolled out of bed, had a shower, tidied my room ready for guests, spent a good ten minutes deciding what clothes to wear for the day, then got in my car and yelled at stupid drivers for doing twenty-nine in a thirty thereby making me late.
I collected Rhys and drove us to Sam, and explained to them how all the silly drivers made me late. Like true friends they didn’t question me, and immediately forgave me for having a lie in.
Like any group of male friends that make plans for a day, we had no actual plans for the day so we headed back to mine to make some music, take some photos and wear sensible hats.
When it became evident that we were about as good at those things as we were at making plans, we decided to head to Southampton so Rhys could get a new GoPro. Unfortunately, after a long drive and a short walk through Southampton high street, we couldn’t find any in stock. Ever the environmentalists, we decided it would be terrible to have driven all this way for no reason. So we decided to head into some shops to do some capitalism.
You’ll be glad to know we found the holy grail of capitalism, a sale in Topshop. Now I don’t believe in a heaven, but I can almost guarantee it won’t have a whole rail of decent trousers for a tenner. Part of me wanted to grab them all and just roll around on the floor with them, but that’s not a mistake I’m going to make a fifth time. That’s when I saw them, a beautiful pair of green trousers. I knew when I saw them that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them. I wanted to be inside them, so I headed for the changing rooms, cheered on by my wingmen. I changed into them and headed back out to get a second opinion. But Rhys and Sam were nowhere to be seen, so I had to ask a rather confused looking sales assistant if trousers were actually supposed to be this tight, or if my legs now looked like green twiglets. She assured me this was something young people called ‘style’, so me and the trousers headed to the checkout. There, we caught up with Rhys and Sam who had found some harmonicas for only two of the pounds. Rhys and Sam seemed to think the sales assistant on the check out was flirting with me, but I’d beg to differ. haha, how funny would it be if I had met my soul mate that day but spent the whole time thinking about trousers.
We brought our goodies then headed back through the shopping centre to the car. On the way we played a brilliant game called ‘flat tyre’. The aim of this game is to tread on the back of someone’s shoe, so that the back of the shoe falls below your heel making it difficult to walk. The winner of this game is the first person to give Tony a rage induced heart attack or boner.
The traffic riddle drive home was made excruciatingly pleasant by Sam and Rhys’ infinite harmonica solo’s. It was one of those drives where you wonder how fast you’d have to drive into a lamppost to keep yourself alive but make some of the pain go away. Luckily we had to stop off at Tesco to buy some supplies consisting mostly of chicken and beer. Once we had these, it was off home to meet Steve.
once the whole gang were together we spent some more time making noise on instruments and calling it music. Then, like any good host, I watched my friends cook me dinner, jumping in occasionally to toss the wedges.
Two and a half enchiladas and a hazing for my tiny child like stomach that could still fit a giant bowl of ice cream in later, we relished the opportunity to do some washing up. Because this meant a spun up tea towel fight. for those of you unfamiliar with spun up tea towel fights, they were an invention of this fellow named god and were an immediate success like some of his other inventions, famine and David Cameron to name but a few. The aim of spun up tea towel fights is to inflict pain on your closest friends. The winner is the first person to give Tony a rage induced heart attack or boner.
And there you have it. That is the tale of a fairly average day, which like most days lately, didn’t seem that average at all.
There’s been a fairly serious point to this blog post, which disappoints me greatly. There is so much you can do with a life. You can climb the highest mountain, you can dive a few miles into Mariana’s trench (I don’t know who Mariana is but she sounds fairly worn in), you can make beautiful music, you can sing ’til you run out of lung. You can eat dinner. But really, what’s the point in any of it if you don’t have amazing people to share it with.
In reality, you don’t need to conquer mountains or oceans everyday. You can have the most amazing adventure doing close to nothing, As long as you do it with amazing people. And if you give yourself the chance, you’ll be surprised how easily it can come to you.