People on a Friday Night

Among the people out on a Friday or a Saturday evening who, by chance or by intent, wander absently, or with determination stride across Guildhall Square, there are a variety of thoughts, motivations and intentions. Who knows what really goes on in the dark, innermost recesses of human hearts? Who knows the fears, the hopes and the aspirations? Who knows what drives folk, young and not so young, out into the cold of the city and into the crowded and noisy gloom of the pubs and clubs into the colours and the varieties of human kinds on display? Each displaying what he or she wants to be seen, wants to be noticed and wants to be thought about.

There are those bent on pleasure, whatever that pleasure might be, and pleasures take a variety of forms. There are those who are plotting mischief, but that too, for them, is a form of pleasure. There are those, whose thoughts drive them, lusting after sexual adventure. There are those, seemingly more simple in their wants, who just seek euphoria and see that fuelled by alcohol and, possibly, by drugs. All these, to some degree or another, anticipate the excitement of shared revelry, some the testosterone enhanced drive of sexual combat or, physical adrenaline surge of combat and swaggering self-aggrandisement.

When they have recovered from its effects, the next day, they will perhaps reflect on what a good time was had by all and look forward to the next weekend of indulgence, seeing not the depravity, the dissipation and the waste.

Maybe there are others, tyros in the art of revelry, who, with sinking feelings, view with dread anticipation the night ahead. Not relishing a long evening and a longer night in the company of those hardened to it and who, single minded, set on it, who drag them along in their destructive, shouting, leering, jeering wake, seek desperately ways out of bravado entrapped bondage.

Ears assailed by thud and shriek of music unmusical and stomachs assailed by too much lager. Unaccustomed to the pace, like landsmen new recruited to the sea. Not used to the motion, they feel sick and out of place. As the evening, raucous, lingers on, they are wishing all the time for it to end, or for escape. They grin feebly, as, too afraid to say “no!” they resign themselves to sitting out the long hours of shouted talk without conversing, drinking without pleasure and without thirst and trying, without interest while attempting to show the semblance of interest.