Back in the day…

… I wasn’t always the upstanding IT professional that you find today.     No no no, I was quite the tearaway says I…says my mum…my dad…and pretty much anyone that knew me back then.

I can’t remember exactly how old I was, I think I was around 14 or 15.   Much too old to go on a camping holiday with my parents and kid brothers.   So, somehow, I managed to persuade my mum and dad that they should leave me behind, where I would stay at a friends place whilst they were away.

I would of course require the house keys..you know, in case I needed anything.

Oh christ….what was I thinking.

Well, obviously I was thinking party.   It would be the best party in the history of best parties anywhere, featuring girls, beer, more girls and possibly sex…given any kind of opportunity.

I was left at a friends and the plan was hatched.   We told his mum that there we would be staying at someone elses place on the Saturday night (yeah I know, classic – but it worked..go figure), everyone did likewise.   If any of us had been kidnapped, the combined might of the 3 CSI teams and that bloke from Numb3rs couldn’t have worked out who was supposed to be where, let alone where we all actually were.

Come to think of it, if anyone could have gotten hold of my Dad, he could have sussed it in about 2 minutes.

Anyway.   The groundwork was laid, beer was organised, food laid on, people invited.   That really hard kid from school that noone likes, but always gets invited to the party to keep away the “unwanted guests”.   And like any other hot blooded teenager, unwanted was defined as anyone that could have potentially pulled whichever girl I fancied my chances with…it was a thorough tactical analysis and invitation scheme.   If I could remember the formula it could well be used to solve many crimes….

So the party begins, and everything is going well.   Then someone found the Beer Steins.   For those of you that don’t know a Beer Stein holds around a liter of liquid.   I say liquid, as beer was only a very temporary option.

My parents had quite a substantial booze cabinet with a wide and varied collection.   Of course at the tender age that I was, you don’t fully appreciate the rapid effect that alcohol has on you and those around you.   The Steins were rapidly filled (and then refilled) with what can loosely be described as “Cocktails”, insofar as the literal definition of a “mixed drink” goes.   Generally, cocktails have names like “Fuzzy Duck”, “Pan Galactic Gargleblaster”, “Screwdriver”, “Screaming Orgasm” and the like.   If I were forced to name our attempts, I would have to go with something appropriate..like “Stomach Pump”.   It was only our tender age that meant the pump would not be called out, as within minutes of drinking the massive quantity of alcohol in the Stein, most of us were sick pretty quickly.

So the party progressed, around an hour after it started most of us were “somewhat merry”.   I definately recall gatecrashers getting their arse kicked by the hard kid.   I have a vague recollection of trying to fit around 15 of us into a normal sized double bed.   At least 2 people were asleep in the bath and another on the bathroom floor.   I forget where I slept.

I do remember waking up, kicking everyone out and then looking at the mammoth task of the clean up.   A task that was made all the bigger when I realised that my mum had turned the boiler off to go away on holiday…and I had no idea whatsoever as to how to get the feckin thing back on.

So now I am cleaning everything using cold water and no small amount of panic.   Honestly, I thought I had done a good job.   I was pretty happy with the place when I headed back to my friends for some sleep.

My next memory is being dragged (literally) from my bed by a somewhat annoyed Dad.   Turns out that they had all gotten sick on the camping trip and got back almost a week early.   A day earlier and they would have turned up mid-party.   As it turned out, my “superb” clean up effort had not been the best and they had realised what had happened within about half a second of their arrival home.

I was grounded until after we moved back to the UK…in fact, there is a chance that I am still grounded.

Good times.

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