Jesus. I don't think my liver can take much more of this. Although, having said that, I think my physical constitution is considerably stronger than my financial one. So, after a week and a half of schmoozing, catching up and generally drinking, I think I'll spend the rest of October sober and resolutely not in the pub.
A week ago on Thursday I was out with Miss Disco, during which time we discussed nothing much in particular, achieved nothing of substance and had a good time. Then on Friday, I went to Northern Mark's leaving do, for he is leaving the grown-up world of work and returning to university to study for a Master's. The last I saw of him, he was swaying unsteadily on his feet at 3am in Club NME in Koko (formerly, and forever in my mind, the Camden Palace). I knew I was old, but not recognising the songs and shaking my head at the badly dressed indie kids just showed me how far I've progressed into old age... Plus, yet another night bus home. Note to self: Get Rich Quick. On Saturday, I slept. On Sunday, I recovered further with red wine.
Then: Monday – consoling a friend, with gin; Tuesday – boozing with The Boy and JoJo (and The Girlfriend); Wednesday – night off; Thursday – took The Girlfriend for dinner to celebrate Five. Long. Years together; Friday – beers after work; Saturday – Mother down, England match viewed in pub. All too much...
By contrast, this week has been much quieter.
