On the Saturday of the last bank holiday weekend, G and I thought we’d go enjoy the last of the sun with ‘just the one’ drink in the pub garden on the other side of the park before coming home for dinner.
The Ye Olde Fighting Cocks is fast becoming one of my favourite pubs, and favourite place in St Albans in general. The inside has that cosy, low-beams, soft lights thing going on. And the garden is big and leafy, with a view of the glittering lake in the park and lovely multi-coloured fairy lights stretched low above your head.
We settled in the last of the sun to enjoy our drinks and got chatting about the future.
Fast forward six hours, the cathedral bells had chimed midnight and we were swaying/stumbling back up the hill through the park. Needless to say, we hadn’t had ‘just the one’.
That’s the point of bank holidays though right?
We spent pretty much all of the evening planning out the next five years of our lives. It started out simple enough, but the drunker we got, the more ridiculous detail we went into.
Some of it is rather hazy now but I do seem to remember there was a conversation about who would give speeches at our wedding.
Not engaged but got the wedding speeches down to a tee. Ah alcohol you cutie.
Travelling, house buying and babies were also discussed if you’re interested.
And, ngl, I loved it. Yes we were rather drunk and yes, some of it was purely alcohol-induced (particularly at the end of the evening), but the majority felt like ideas we would one day actually see come to pass. And I’m so excited for those days.
None of it is set in stone; wouldn’t be fun otherwise. But it feels like we came away from the evening with a pretty solid idea of where we want our lives to go over the next few years.
That and a hangover.
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