Vintage Englishness

Posted: November 15, 2012 in As If I Actually Ended Up Going To Uni

I have just punched a man repeatedly in the chest. But he has caught my hand, and knocked me down in one blow. I am on the floor, and this is bad. Really bad.

There is a knock on the door.

I sigh, and put down my N64 pad. I am in the middle of a royal rumble. The wrestling match I’ve been trying to win since 2001. I press pause, and open the door. It’s McCarthy, my Ghanaian Randall Lines hallmate, with an invitation.

“Hey Dan, I’m heading to Vintage. Would you like to come?”

Vintage. The church without a church I’ve been meaning to visit since I started uni. This…

…This is my chance.

My chance to win the royal rumble! I’m so close to the end!

I look at McCarthy.

He smiles.

I smile.

And shut the door.

And press play.

And lose the royal rumble.

And sigh.

And put my shoes on.

I open the door and immediately see the big cheese. Joe, Vintage’s leader, is standing next to a large ball of cheese. His wife smiles at me.

“Hi Dan! Want some of my cheese ball?”

I am surprised, because I’ve not known Joe and Jess long, and she’s just offered me some of her giant cheese ball! She’s jumped straight into three-month old friendshiperie! I temper the situation, and decide to hold off on the cheese. My arteries raise a glass to the decision, which reminds Joe, who leaps into host-y action.

“Can I offer you a tea or coffee, Dan?”

I sigh. This is the problem with being English. I am English. But don’t like tea. Which confuses a lot of people. It’s not that I’m being difficult. Well. Sometimes. Milk and water are lovely, but milk and water is vile! and you want me to lob in some random bits of leaf?!

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Joe is polite, and makes me feel like I’ve known him longer than I have. Like at least a few months. I feel safe being honest.

“But I do like hot chocolate…”

Joe opens the cupboard and steps up to the plate. Moves it out the way, and grabs the tub of chocolate powder.

“There’s not much chocolate left in here, Dan.”

“How much?”

“Well, you know how it says to use four heaping spoonfuls?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll probably get one.”

“Right.”

“Still want one?”

“You know I do!”

We chat, and Joe produces a very hot almost chocolate. I smile, as we enter the foyer where Jess is showing off her cheese ball. It has cheese in it, and onion.

“You gonna try some, Dan?”

Jess is American, and therefore a risk. But then, I do always say we need more risk takers. Well. I said it a couple of times in 2010. It seems to have worked quite well for Joe. Having constant access to his wife’s cheesy balls. This is why people get married. I sit down with my smeared cracker and my questionable beverage, and notice everyone smiling at me, awaiting the first sip of whatever the heck monstrosity Joe’s produced. I decide to hold off, for I like a lovely wince, and it’s always nicer in private. I look around and watch everybody else drinking their teas or coffees. They’re all drones. Unable to admit that their drinks are nasty. The drinks of bondage! The drinks of slavery!

Joe appears and leads us into a room where youtube has been set up. We follow him in, and everybody leaves their empty cups in the foyer. I hold onto mine. It’s still good…. potentially… maybe. I do my hoodie up, and watch as everyone else puts on their coats in the cold, cold youtube room. I pick up my hot drink, and am warm. I smile, as everybody else in the room moans about the temperature. I look at my drink, and grin. Tea and coffee are rubbish! They are defeated! I am free!

I am… an Englishman.

I smile, and drink.

And wince.

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Comments
  1. skyvern86 says:

    Ah… I remember this… :3

    Fun times, Wolves. I badly need to come visit SOON! Hope the cold isn’t so bad now!

  2. Choward says:

    I remember this… And hurry to make clear that I would not have been drinking tea, nor coffee. If I had a beverage, t’would have been cold water. I refuse such strange English practises as tea!

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