Had my French friend down for the weekend and went to Brighton and Beachy Head for the day. I shall pop some photos up of it when I can be arsed. Didn't realise it was the day of the Brighton Gay Pride march, so that made for some interestingly dressed characters walking round Brighton. Beachy Head was fucking brilliant, as usual, I loved it.
Went to a do last night. My missus had an invite from someone at work for her 30th. It was in Bexleyheath. I have never been to Bexleyheath but I was less than chuffed at having to get 2 trains, changing at the lovely Lewisham. Got there and off the train bowl a couple of fucking cockney cunts, all pink shirts, cunty caps and incredibly drunk while singing 'i'm forever blowing bubbles'. It almost looked like one was going to drop the other as he picked him up as the train was leaving, it wouldn't have been a great loss to society if they had slipped beneath the train. Urgh. Then, it turns out the main drag of Bexleyheath, and where the do was, was a 40 minute walk from the station. All very tired looking and run down. Well, that's being kind, it was a dreadful shithole of a place. Opted for a couple of warm up drinks in a local pub before heading to the do. A Weatherspoons called 'The Wrong Un'. You would be hard pushed to find a more stereotyped Weatherspoons pub, all faux old wood panelling, rows of books, regimented shit tables and desperate proles. You know you are in a dump of a place when even the 'photos from old times' of the place still look shit. I doubt Bexleyheath has even been any cop. One of those places where you never feel safe so I wasn't relishing the thought of the long walk back to the station then a 45 minute train journey. Went up to the do in a pub that was an effort at a modern bar but was just depressing. Cunty barman pretended the pints were off because he couldn't be arsed to go downstairs to get one, just as the wee lassy who was also serving came up with some pints for other people. Fuck-haired prick. Didn't want to walk back through so opted for the treat of a taxi, the local taxi office that we passed had shut (this was at fucking 11 30 on a friday night....eh?). Had to walk all the way to the station and wait there for a taxi behind a load of other people. Half an hour wait they said. There was an old office chair without the roller wheels placed outside, so I made myself comfy. The taxi was quicker than they said so we were soon on our way, spirited away in a tatty mondeo from the horrid Bexleyheath. I felt some of my general optimism being left behind.
Don't ever fucking go to Bexleyheath.
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