It’s Been A Long Time Since We Did Anything Really Fucking Stupid

Kielbasa
To be honest, the title kinda says it all really. I actually rarely title a piece until after I have completed the writing. Or thereabouts. Often I’ll write something partway through that just rings out to me. Bobbing Around Beyond The Break, for example. Vomitation Of Vestige was almost another. The Savage Beast Of Sought Opportunity always brings a smile to my face.*

Early December

But yeah, “it’s been a long time since we did anything really fucking stupid” is what was uttered out loud in the pub. Now that often means one of two things will happen in this circle of acquaintances:

– Another few rounds will be consumed and someone will eventually be publicly humiliated. Or injured. Or get told off by an annoyed police officer. Or a combination of the above.
– We will actually plan something meaningful. Not with the intention of being stupid, but through happenstance, that is what will happen. Guaranteed. Almost.

This evening, somewhat thankfully for now at least, it was the latter.

The first time we did a silly thing – actually, the only time we ever commit acts of stupidity are on New Year’s Eve – but the first time was many years ago. It involved a wooden contraption, some fireworks, and our surfboards. Let’s not go there. Well, let’s see how this goes, but for the moment, let’s not go there.

The second time was only a few years ago, and it was in homage to the first. The main difference was swapping wooden contraptions and gunpowder for vodka and shot glass (singular, another story). In fact, it certainly wasn’t stupid because we were older and wiser and knew when to put the lid back on the bottle and paddle back in to the warmth of the fire.

So for the third take on our increasingly geriatric group of surfers…

“Cheese and wine?” murmured one of the group.

Actually, he said formaggio e vino but we all knew what he meant.

“I don’t do cheese, you all know that, stop taking the piss” said an anonymous member of the group.

“Ollie, for fuck’s sake, it’s delicious. Just try a bit of…”

“Fuck off!” retorted the aforementioned anonymous person.

“Eh, Ollie, let’s do cheese and wine. But for you, I get you something delicious I know you will like.”

And so it was agreed.

Actually, that’s not strictly true. There was a further argument involving the type of wine, and thankfully it wasn’t me on the receiving end of it – I’m perfectly happy with a glass of decent red. Perhaps Mr Dickwad Cheese Lover also has a weird taste-fetish-opposite-thing. Hmmm!?

And so it was agreed.

Some beautifully sourced Italian vino rosso (fingers-crossed for Montepulciano or Chianti) and some wonderfully sourced Lambrini, probably from the vineyards of Essex. Some cheese, don’t give a shit about that, won’t be having any myself. And a surprise for which I will have to wait for I will look on with interest when it happens to the anonymous person. The anonymous person!

Four Weeks Later

It’s New Years Eve, and once again a happy place is being revisited. To be honest, it feels weird to have a get-together with this group two years on the trot, but no one is complaining. The fire is crackling, Mr Pyro has his pile of wood, the wine is flowing, conversation is sparkling as always. Love fills the air as it always does with us.

There’s genuine friendship between us all. It is unusual for us to be together so soon after the last time, but we are making the most of this situation. Stories of the year past are being recounted, laughter rises above the pops from the embers and once again, there is just a level of comfort and security between us that we can relax and be ourselves.

“Ollie, I hate to ask, but you have this weird technique that is so much better than mine. Last time I forgot… would you mind…?”

I’ve been asked to remove and replace wax from a board that was last in the water probably at this very same spot twelve months ago. Shameful. But of course I oblige. I head up to the car park with a freshly topped-up glass and start scraping; wax off, wax on, or something.

It was only about an hour later I realised why this request had been made of myself.

Duck tape wrapped around board, tins and fins securely fastened, we paddle out. We realised during the fireworks fiasco that Christmas biscuit/chocolate tins work well at keeping things dry. And duck tape works well at keeping said tins attached to the boards.

As we floated around beyond the gently breaking waves, the tape was unfastened and goodies were revealed. A wooden board appeared, along with a couple of very British-looking cheese knives. Of course, a wide variety of cheeses, I have no idea of their names. There was some bread and a few crackers as well – sealable plastic bags are also very handy. And the main event, some delicious red wine.

Now we aren’t savages, and we are occasionally sensible. And most sensible people wouldn’t have even dreamed of taking wine glasses out on a surfboard. You know, the ones actually made of glass.

We do. Wrapped up in tea towels, they survived. And thank fuck someone remembered the corkscrew.

“Oh man, I almost forgot, I promised you something I know you will enjoy…”

Another tin was untaped and unsealed. And the moment it was opened everyone paid attention. Eyes widened, noses were on alert. The smell. The sheer beautiful wonderful smell.

When I was sentenced to hard labour with sex wax and a scraper earlier in the evening, it allowed our generous host to do something that he hoped wouldn’t be noticed.

From the tin came the unmistakable smell of Polish kielbasa, cooked on the fire and still perfectly warm. All of a sudden, the formaggio was resigned to the sedile posteriore.

So there we were, floating around in the sea on our boards, enjoying wine and munching on fire-cooked sausages.

Honestly, life rarely gets better than that.

And with our stomachs full of cheese, bread, sausage and wine, we toasted each other one last time, cleared up and paddled back to land and the comfort of the fire. There was plenty left to share with those who kept the flames going, and our evening will no doubt, continue well into the night.

It’s been a long time since we did anything really fucking stupid. And it still is.

Happy New Year.

The header photo is just a stock image. I wasn’t aware when the kielbasa was being cooked, and we’re not of the generation that photograph everything that happens.

Sex Wax: It isn’t what you’re thinking of. Well, I say that, I don’t know what you are thinking of. It’s just a famous brand name of board wax, reportedly the “best for your stick”. Go on, google it: Mr Zog’s Sex Wax.

*Holy crap! It’s been ten years since I wrote that. A whole decade. I need more wine.