One of my worst memories was when I went to Blackpool with some friends. One of them got involved in some carny game throwing hoops over some sticks that probably didn’t fit.
I stood to one side and encouraged my friend in his futile quest to win some money. I did not realise that he spent £180 on the pointless task on what was some carny bullshit con.
I felt terrible, worse than he ever did to be honest.
I could not sleep that night, so come 5:30am I decided to go for a walk on the beach. It was nice listening to the sea and forgetting all the fake rubbish that the town was.
I only let go off this guilt towards my friend five months ago, when, after he had blown more money on worthless crap, I realised he was an adult who could make his own decisions and as such live with the consequences.
