Last week I spoke of the drinking culture of the younger generation, many of whom don’t go out until around midnight having consumed large amounts of cheap alcohol at home beforehand.
Given that my generation is more akin to going out early evening and often being tucked up in bed by midnight the concept was completely alien to me and my contemporaries.
As last weekend was a Bank Holiday myself and a couple of friends decided that we would treat ourselves to a night out in another town.
Given that it’s less than an hour on the train, and it’s my old stomping ground, we decided that Carlisle would be ideal.
We caught a train from Lancaster just after 5 o’clock, and having checked into our hotel, were out on the town by 6.30pm.
We couldn’t believe what we saw as we entered the first watering-hole as the vast majority were of a similar age to us, and more than one or two were already three sheets to the wind.
Believe me it was an extremely entertaining, and at times enlightening, evening.
What was of interest to me, and hopefully to readers, was the fact that every single person we spoke to couldn’t believe that we had chosen Carlisle over Lancaster for a night out.
Many said that they had been to our fair city for an evening out and had thoroughly enjoyed it.
To reinforce the point that we don’t always appreciate what we have I was on call at the police station on Bank Holiday Monday and one of the officers informed me that Lancaster had been really busy over the weekend.
In fact, in his words, “it was buzzing!” Apparently, there had been large groups of revellers from Preston, Barrow and, ironically Carlisle.
That just goes to show that the grass isn’t always greener.
Certainly, as we travelled home early on Sunday morning with thumping heads it wasn’t the grass that was greener but rather our sorry complexions.
At that time I realised that I would have much preferred to have been at home in Lancaster than having to haul myself on to a train wishing I hadn’t been tempted by that final Tequila.