Leaving Night

First week of the new job in the bag, so time to raise a toast or two to the old one. Bridal Chauffeuring duties the next morning meant I had to go a wee bit canny on the wine...but I had enough to feel more than merry, enough to more than warm the old cockles and enough to feel more than a bit sad inside that I wouldn't be working with these folk anymore. And then it was all of a sudden time to head off and pretend I was completely sober and not occasionally stumbling as I headed down to the mixing point of all human life that is the Union Square bus terminus, destination: last bus home to the sticks.

Everybody eyes each other suspiciously as you get on the last bus. Everybody...sober, drunk, half-cut, no matter what your mental status...whips out their phone and starts to, well, whatever we all get up to on our phones.  The world could be ablaze, but we'd probably watch it on line, rather than raising our eyes up. My lift wasn't in the village so more stumbling up the country road, until the lift turns up after all, rages me for walking alone on a dark country road and being half drunk, I put on a very unconvincing indignant face, then fall straight into bed.

Thanks to the folks for coming out for a wee tipple and very generous leaving gifts.