One of the things I loved about being a student was going out drinking when I was off the next day, and crashing at the house of a full-time worker.  We’d both wake up, red-eyed and groggy.  They’d have to go to work, and I’d have to leave with them.  But I could go home and go back to sleep, or just go to bed and watch a film.  Or just lounge about.

It was worth being woken at 7am on a day off just for the delightful feeling of watching that person go to work for the next nine hours, knowing I’d be back in bed for half-nine.  “Enjoy work, haw haw haw”.  A little smugness, and then the journey to bed began.  Onto a bus just outside of rush hour, away from town, as the last dregs of 9am starters made their way in.  Home to play Goldeneye on the Nintendo 64, or to watch Enter The Dragon for the 35th time.  Those were the days.

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