Sunday 20 March 2005

the devil came and took me from bar to street to bookie

I had an excellent day out with some old friends yesterday. We are all the same age and all have birthdays in March, so we always try to meet up and do something to mark the passing of time. I say “something”, but what I mean is that we go out and get absolutely bladdered somewhere. This year we were in Nottingham, and watched the rugby in the pub, went out for a curry, got back round mine by about 10pm and then were all soundly asleep in front of the telly within 30 minutes (match of the day and then some rubbish film starring Ewan McGregor - Nightwatch I think, although I can’t tell you anything about it, except that I think Nick Nolte did it). I think we must be getting old.

I like drinking, and I think I’m pretty good at it; I have friends who will swear they have never seen me drunk.... it’s not because I don’t drink much, or because I haven’t actually been drunk in front of them, it’s because I’m quite good at hiding it, or because I am less drunk than they are, and so therefore appear to be relatively sober. Anyway. The thing is, I don’t think I actually like getting drunk anymore. I just don’t like the feeling. I’m not sure I ever really have (does anyone?). I seem to have an inbuilt mechanism that tells me when to stop, and generally speaking that’s when I stop.

I don’t plan to stop drinking. I like drinking. I like a nice big unsubtle red wine. I like beer - even lager has its moments. I like a good malt whiskey. Hell, I even quite like a nice liqueur every now and again. I’m not ready to give that up. What I am considering though is cutting out those all day sessions. It’s not even as though we set out to drink solidly at these things; we’ve usually gone somewhere to watch some sport, and drinking is just the natural by-product of being in the pub. When the sport finishes, we roll onto another pub and keep drinking. It’s habit more than anything else.


I woke up this morning and I felt okay. I was tired, more than anything else, although I did feel like I’d been out drinking. The guys were still around, so we got the Sunday papers in and settled down to watch Dodgeball (brilliant, brilliant film) and some Red Dwarf VI. After the lads shoved off, I decided to punish myself and got my bike out, cycled for 20 minutes, got off my bike, ran 5km around the rowing lake, and then got back on my bike and cycled home. And NOW I have a headache. That’ll teach me. The beer and the curry were fine; it’s the exercise that’s made me feel ill.

Don’t do it kids.


Today I did something I have never done before - I read a blog in it’s entirety from bottom to top, all 15 months of it. Why? Because I have this thing I like to do where I read the first ever entry on a blog I like. I do this mainly because my own is so hopeless, and because it took me a little while to find my voice. I am interested to see how “fully formed” some bloggers start out. This one was so good, that I just kept reading and reading. It’s excellent. Good work Flash.


I’ve now spent the Amazon vouchers that have been burning a hole in my virtual pocket for the last couple of weeks (I had to wait until all birthday presents had been exchanged and this weekend saw the arrival of Red Dwarf VI and the freedom to shop!)

I opted for:
Employment - The Kaiser Chiefs
Want Two - Rufus Wainwright
Lullabies to Paralyze - Queens of the Stoneage
The Bravery - The Bravery

and I bought myself the boxset of Seinfeld series 1-3. I was a latecomer to the delights of the archetypal “show about nothing”, but in my opinion nothing on TV is better scripted. The plot for every single epsiode twists and turns, but is always, always, brought together perfectly at the end. The BBC made how many series of “Goodnight Sweetheart” and put it on primetime TV? They keep making “My Hero” and putting it on at primetime. So why the hell was Seinfeld always buried on BBC2 at midnight? I know the slap bass is annoying, but.... did it deserve that?

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