You Don't Live Like I Do

Five years ago, on Good Friday, cosmolinguist and I went out to meet up with a friend for drinks. We missed him, but stayed out in town together, hopping from pub to pub, getting less and less sober. By the end of it, somehow, we were dating (again?) We've celebrated on Good Friday rather than the specific date. Partly because we're guaranteed a day off work at the start of a long weekend, partly because the idea of it being a moveable feast matches the slightly nebulous shift from friends to lovers. That day five years ago, people actually asked us how long we'd been together, and most answers between "about a decade" and "about twenty minutes actually" seemed to have some level of validity.

This year, as is our tradition, we went into town and bar-hopped again. Different bars this time, selected by available outdoor seating during the pandemic. But Manchester has plenty of variety, and we went to places both new (Fierce Beer) and old (Bar Fringe, where I was drinking as a student). I got drunker than I expected, but in a fun way rather than an alarming one, and I enjoyed feeling a bit hung over on Saturday.

On Saturday, we met up with some people from Discord for "craft and coffee". It was a gloriously sunny day and we sat outside a café-bar at the University, chatting with people. E knitted, and I started to teach myself cross-stitch, using an adorable and very queer unicorn pattern I'd picked up at Fred Aldous. The most difficult part of it was untangling the provided six-strand thread, and re-tangling it into three-strand thread! It was a really nice sociable occasion, and the fried breakfast really helped my hangover. More of that sort of thing!