This is my response to the Flashback Track Friday prompt, where we were given Walking In Memphis by Marc Cohn and asked:
Tell us about a walk you went on.
As a teen I befriended my drink,
Under-age but with never a care,
But I’ll tell you a tale ’bout a night I went out,
Not a word of a lie here, I swear.
I guess I had drunk quite a bit,
And I must have been very far gone,
At the end of the night when we said our goodbyes,
Can’t remember quite how I got home.
I must have got through the front door,
But from there I just have to presume,
I settled to sleep in I’m sure my own bed,
When I woke I was in the Spare Room.
I must I suppose have undressed,
Must have piled all my clothes on a chair,
For I woke and was somewhat surprised
Feeling chilly and stark bollock bare.
I’m not sure what tipped over the edge.
But I think it was that last wee short,
Made me wake lying in the wrong bed,
Oh, if only a lesson had taught.
My parents moved house when I was seventeen, and this took place in the old house, so that dates this misadventure to sixteen or seventeen. We lived in a shoebox of a house, with a small upstairs landing, a simple junction at the end. My bedroom on the left, the spare bedroom on the right.
And, I had been out on the ale. I must have at least got myself back to the house, though I have no memory.
The bed in my bedroom was just a regular single bed, been there years. It was fully made up, of course, because I slept in it every night. On this occasion, there were traces that I had slept in the bed. I later found my clothes, not in a chair but piled unceremoniously on the floor. So, that’s where I started the night.
The spare bedroom contained two camp-bed-style spare beds, each with a lightweight mattress. They were a pair – the frames fitted one inside the other for storage, with the mattresses laying on top. Typically, these beds were not made up. We didn’t make them up unless we expected guests.
So I started sleeping in my room. But nobody could explain to me how I woke up, stark naked, between those two mattresses in the spare room! I have no recollection even of getting up, though I must have gone for a pee partway through.
Oh, the folly of youth! I really did drink too much as a teenager. After I was beered-out, Scotch whisky was a favourite tipple. But we never really got on and I was left with an inevitable sore head the next day (which of course was nothing to do with all that beer). Ironically, I later discovered an Irish whiskey called Kilbeggan. I could say it had no ill-effects… but at least it didn’t come with a hangover 🤣.
Another memory from around that time, was shortly after the move, so again dating it at seventeen or eighteen. Totally wasted one night, I managed to catch a taxi home. But to the wrong house! I fumbled with key in the front door, which of course did not fit. Before I noticed that the car in the driveway was not my father’s. I have no memory of getting to the proper house that night, the only picture in my mind is of that car.