Thought I might add a little update to old Orange and talk about a specific date that lives in infamy in my memory. Or rather that is to say, parts of it do, those parts I can remember. The date in question is Wednesday November 25 1992. Or, as the legends now recall it, Mudos' 21st birthday.
Your 21st is a big event, and it irks me somewhat that I have little memory of much of that day. To be honest, I am hoping that the telling of my jigsaw recollections might jog some memories and I'd welcome any additional information any Orange Orderists (thats you) might be able to add to the pot.
As I said, the 21st birthday is a major moment in the University life of a young hound such as me, and to have that birthday in term time, ensconced in the hallowed surroundings of South Stoneham House, and on a Wednesday (clearly a fine drinking day) was fortuitous in the extreme. Fortuitous in Extremis, as hackneyed Latin types would have it.
The facts, as I recall them then, are as follows. I know that my friend Suzanne came down for the night, and for that very thing, amongst many others, she royally rocks. I have a sneaking suspicion I might have not gone to the station to pick her up because I have a vague recollection of having started drinking in the JCR (Junior Common Room to thee and me, Bar to everyone else) whilst we played a number of games of pool and Sue turning up through the door.
Now, by the time we had hit my 21st, Stoneham Bar had gone the way of the Dodo - brutally murdered by a combination of incompetence, incontinence and being run by drunk students. Death by PissAdventure, as the coroner's report read. Therefore the main thrust of the evening was over in Monte Bar (The 2 Guys, Simon and Colm running it, iirc?? Guy B - you'll remember)
Much as I hate to admit it, Monte bar was a pretty funky little hole in this guise - just the right level of ricketiness to be probably unsafe in a modern context, with a fine view out the window of what tail might be coming - or, for those of us who had left their sick bed with flu to have a sneaky drink or 5, to see when trouble in the shape of girlfriends or friends of girlfriends and such like were on the warpath (different story, sorry I digress). Much funkier it was then the behemoth it became in the next academic year when, in gratitude for some bailing out of Stoneham, Monte got a swanky new bar with a built-in DJ booth and a pair of boots 5 sizes too big for every resident.
So, there we were, en masse, celebrating. Of the actual events in Monte bar that night, I have firm recollection of only two - I know there was a yard of grendel but alas, I have no idea how many of the target 42 units for the night were in it, or ended up in me. There was also a pinball table behind the seats we sat in which was piled high with glasses (obviously we weren't sipping tea from china cups). I made a speech. That is to say, I tried to make a speech. When I say 'try', I mean stood on a stool, mumbled something and I remember fosberry flopping onto the pinball table. That, however, is the extent of my memories of the night in Monte. Any further snippets would be welcomed. And, 18 years on, not as embarassing as, say, 17 years ago.
After Monte, we returned to Stoneham. I'll be honest, I have only snippets of memory from this point. There was definitely champagne and several people in my cramped cell, sorry, room. I only know Doug set the fire alarm off because he was clearly a toast making dingus and I have been told many times since that Doug set the fire alarm off by making toast. We got shouted at by someone - could have been a fireman, could have been Gerry the sub-warden, hell it could have been Penry, the mild-mannered janitor.
Next thing I know, I am cold and we are outside. I'd like to think I got us out of Hyde-Prices bad books by my silver tongue. I have an awful feeling though that I just hugged him and mumbled it was my birthday and he wasn't allowed to be angry with me. Oh the lofty skills of the bard.
The next day, I was shamefully hungover. Not just hungover but utterly incapable of activity. Not only had I failed to collect Sue from the station, my attempt to walk her back got as far as Connaught corner of Wessex Lane, at which point I told her I had no choice but to go back to bed and gave fairly useless directions to the airport train station. Not hating me forver for being a useless twonk is another reason Suzanne has always, and still does, rock. It is entirely possible I went drinking again that night.
That's it. That is all I remember of my 21st birthday. Anyone who remembers any further tidbits will be rewarded with a hearty handshake and thanks. Let's be honest here though, we had a good craic at Uni ;)
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