 |
 |
 |
||||||
 |
     Valentine's Day. Oh joy. Even the cards I sent myself didn't arrive. I bought Dave's ticket to tonight's Ball at the Union. It's a 'Valentines Ball', so it could be filled with smug courting couples. On the other hand, there's lots of booze around. This is the first of three black tie events I'm going to this coming week. It's like buses - you wait for ages and then three come along at once. It is very difficult when dressed up in black tie to avoid appearing affluent, and therefore a valid target for beggars. At the best of times I hate being hassled by them, since I know I'm not going to give them any money, but I know I should since they're having a hard time of it on the streets, so I feel really guilty. This time I was approached by an honest beggar. "I won't try to con you - I'm homeless, on the street and I need the price of a can of beer." With such a straightforward approach I felt obliged to give him something, just once. The Ball was a standard Union job, with various tents, rooms and freebies (which, of course, you've already paid for). I went directly to the casino (cashless, of course) and got some chips. I realised that I'd sat down to play blackjack at 8.30, and it was suddenly 10.30 and I'd been nowhere else other than the blackjack table. By this time the dealer (a humble Union operative, rather than a professional casino employee) had realised that I knew more about blackjack than he did, and even asked me to deal a few hands while he nipped off to the toilet. If only we'd been playing with real money - I'd have been £220 up by the end of the night. Once I'd stopped myself from becoming hopelessly addicted to gambling, I went and wandered around, taking in the sights and, in some cases, smells. Union balls are probably good value if you don't mind what you drink, since the freebies are generally alcoholic in nature. Alas I lack the cast-iron stomach required to successfully chase Pernod with Bud on top of champagne and so tend to be over-selective (and possibly over-sober to boot). I spent some time listening to a rather funky band ('Tones of Life', I think) in the Debating Chamber and watching drunken students carouse in the approved manner. I also had the pleasure of seeing Dom, Claire's bloke, accidentally empty a bottle of 'TNT' (some vile energy drink) over an innocent reveller. These bottles had cunning ring-pull tops which enabled you to spill the contents with virtually no effort. Probably just as well. I continued to wander randomly for the rest of the evening, just soaking up the atmosphere. A pleasant evening, all told. |
 |
||||||
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
||
|
