My First Sober Pub Crawl

It's been a while now, but with other projects on the go (notably more charity fundraising for Aberdeen's Student Show) I've pretty muched ignored a lot of the India gumph going around. Not wise. Of course, having to miss the first meeting with the team because of a work meeting wasn't particularly helpful for me. But then again, I'm now all caught up. I have my official t-shirt. It's yellow. Not a nice yellow. Not a yellow that makes you think of sunshine and daisies, or a muted yellow that makes you think of other non-descript flowers and not even a vibrant sunshine shade of yellow. This is more of a custard yellow.

I don't actually have any fundraisers bagged at the moment either, however I am the first on the waiting list for all events. This means I'm a bit like a spy on call. Like a sponsorship ninja perhaps, or some other romanticised way of saying your at the mercy of other peoples laziness, illness or other misfortune. Having had to decline my place at a bake sale (which is such a shame as my rice crispie cakes have come on leaps and bounds since last years Bad Girls: the musical bake sale fiasco) my first fundraiser was a pub crawl. Sounds wonderful. However, this is a sober pub crawl. ... ... Yep. On a Saturday night in Aberdeen city centre. This would combine a few things I hate about certain nights out.

1) Town on a Saturday.
2) Fancy Dress. (Although it is worth noting here that this is the 3rd weekend in a row I'll have been out in fancy dress... and given next weeks concert costume that will bring November's going out looks to a grand total of a dalmation, a chimney sweep, a tiger and then Kerry Katona [the iceland/crack years])
3) Not drinking.
4) Begging for money.

So, after profusely vomitting for a several hours over the sickening colour of the t-shirt (note: slight hyperbole), I thought that perhaps my original idea of adapting my dalmation costume into a panda one would not be appropriate even though it would make me a recycling genius of Kirstie Allsopp proportions.

Here is where I have a slight confession to make... Whilst I like to think I'm a rational person of reasonable intelligence, sometimes my decision making can be in the realms of the absurd. For example, I was indeed having a bit of a crappy day on Saturday. I was indeed very frustrated with my essays, certain friendships and certain obligations. So in a dire attempt to be selfish I declared (declared really is the only fitting word here as well) that I was going to be a tiger. It was a kind of mental affirmation that would sound absolutely ridiculous out loud.

"I'm going as a fucking tiger. I've always wanted to be a tiger. So I'm going to BE a fucking tiger."

Clearly the word 'fucking' was for added conviction. So I did. I bought a set that contained tiger print ears, a tail and a bow tie. (Quick digression: I don't understand the bow tie. Animals do not wear bow ties. So instead of thinking of essays, costumes, or even mundane things like what to have for tea, the costume shop has lured me into this imaginary world where tigers go to dinner parties. Yet even this does not make sense because it was a tiger-print bow tie. Humans don't wear skin coloured bow ties. I am conceptually adrift.)

Obviously as soon as I got home I wondered how to facepaint but thankfully, youtube has tiger facepainting tutorials and I will upload a picture of my truly astounding face shortly. I did look pretty good if I do say so myself. For clothes I basically had on the custard t-shirt, khaki trousers and then another orange t-shirt. Arsed with stripes. I was an urban tiger. Carrying a bucket hardly meant I was going to method act this one around town (although I wish I could have said the same about the dalmation evening... apologies to those whose legs got humped.).

Despite my intense dislike for the evening it was actually quite enjoyable and sociologically speaking, far more interesting that any of those wildlife programmes. What was the most astonishing thing was getting the same reactions over and over again from different pubs. If there were a group of lads sat having a drink, one would show off and get mouthy. But if you stayed and put up with it, all the others tended to chuck in a few quid each to compensate whilst I heard for the 8th time that 'Childreach International' sounds less like a charity and more like a peadophile's holiday resort. (I'm clearly paraphrasing here. I'd like to think I was slightly more eloquent than my average client base for the evening.)

Of course, with it being a Saturday, lots of couples were out in force, and it's nice to know that peer pressure is still about in the over 50's, if one person puts in a few bob, everyone does. Similarly, nobody gives you any coppers. I presume that this is because nobody wants to seem cheap. About a tenner of my total was in £2 coins! And whilst being spoken about like the elephant (or rather the tiger) in the room was a bit awkward, women telling their men to 'give him something' clearly earned me far more cash than I would have gotten otherwise.

On that note it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Clearly some people can't handle their drink. And whilst I'm pretty liberal and open minded when it comes to people's lifestyles and could hardly be described as a prude, groping a tiger is clearly not acceptable. Well, for the sake of 50p it's not. Thank goodness some of us have perfected the art of stepping back, saying no and moving on, even if my mind did go to very dark places when I saw the £20 in his wallet... As well as this, walking into a bar and having everyone burst out laughing (when I say 'bar' in this sense one should conjure up an image of 'The Jockey' from Shameless...) is quite a nerve-racking prospect, and a challenge for even the most extroverted among us. But then again, if one's out and dressed like a twat one should capitalise on it.

The only thing that got me really riled was the middle aged woman who kept pulling my tail. It was amusing the first time, but after that I wanted to punch her. I'm sure she meant no harm but she just looked dirty. The kind of person you just want to hose down and scrub. Clearly she'd started drinking in about 1992 and had probably not washed since then either. Needless to say I wasn't impressed. If you were to imagine one of the harpies from Loose Women after a bottle of gin and some steroids you're pretty much there. Her monotone ridiculous voice was so slurred that when she said 'easy tiger' I wasn't sure whether she was making the same pseudo-sexual remark I'd heard a dozen times before that one or whether she was trying to engage in some Tarzan-esque introduction.

"Me. Easy. ... You. Tiger."

Aside from this though it was a good laugh. After posing for a few photos with the drunks, or being told to 'Fuck off. Children in Need was last night. I'm skint.' the highlight of the evening was most definitely those few people who seemed genuinely interested in the cause and actually thought that being a university student and raising money for charity was a worthwhile way to spend one's time.

Well, that and obviously getting home to find I'd got over £100 in the kitty.

No pun intended.

Starting at the very beginning.

So, I've decided to cycle around India for three weeks in the coming summer. Of course, I've got plenty to be getting on with before then, but a once in a lifetime opportunity like this is pretty special. So, where to start? The most interesting thing about this trip is how it's going to be challenging on multiple levels. Raising £2440 isn't exactly something you can knock out on a lunchbreak, and neither is the trek hundreds of miles across one of the most fascinating countries in the world.

It is here where I have hit my very first snag. About a week after deciding to undertake one of the most daunting challenges I've come across, I broke two metatarsals in my left foot. The how's and why's of this are not important, (let's just say I have learnt my lesson when it comes to alchohol consumption and interpretive dance) but this has certainly dampened my expectations of getting some pretty hefty cycling done in the first few weeks of the project. Now don't get me wrong, I understand I'm roughly a year in advance, but the thought of going to India and have a rest day seems completely alien to me. If I'm in one of the most beautiful, spiritual and historic places on this planet I'd much rather not have to take a day out of visiting temples and whatnot just because I've got a sore backside.

Just a thought.