…you know the kind. The nights you meet your friends just to do, something, nothing and whatever. There have certainly been bigger and better nights as well as smaller and suckier nights. But there’s something about these other ones; the “forgettable” ones. They have a way of being the ones that you think of when you remember not a certain day, just a “now and then” and “here and there.” A feeling that makes up the whole, not just the part that it once was.
Last Friday, was one of those nights that I’ll soon forget but always remember. Cheers to the lazy American, one liquered up Mick, a very personable sheep-shaggin Welshman and the freshly squeezed Kiwi that made it what it was.