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Far too much out, and not nearly enough in

I am, I will admit, antisocial.

I used to go out a lot. A lot a lot. But now, thinking back, the main attraction of that was the drink and the company not so much. I can also admit that really I am an antisocial drinker… but I have Cut Back on Account of My Liver. Old habits die hard however, and I tend to start thinking about what I could drink in the evening, in the morning. As I have Cut Back, I now tend to think about whether the day is a dry one or a wet one. If it is dry, I may have to cycle through a few internal reels of dialogue about why it must be dry, or whether I could justifiably take a dram and flout the clear instructions from Public Health himself which is: have a dry day every other day, at least.

All that takes a bit of a while.

Tonight is a dry night, so was last night. Last week was drink on Thursday before Kings of the Dance at the Coliseum on St Martin’s Lane, drink at Henry Burgers before and with food, drink on Saturday because the habit was too hard to break and also on Sunday because it would be a dry Monday the day after. Basically, I fell off the self-imposed 24 hour stage wagon and all the travelling to and fro in the dark made me quite tired from which I may only just be recovering. Long, long gone are the days when I could live hard…

Still, on the basis of overdoing it somewhat last week (there were no hangovers I might add, but it does affect my sleep pattern) I can highly recommend two things to readers, in no particular order: Russian ballet dancer Ivan Vasiliev for his high lepping and Gnarly Head Zinfandel for a sultry berry finish.

In the wars

€Over the weekend I’ve garnered some injuries: a two inch long burn on my right forearm from the iron and an impressive elbow blister on the other arm.

I can’t understand the blister on the left elbow, I had one last year that I got in Paris from a day’s drinking near the Gare du Nord. It’s like exercise on the tv.

Right ladies, put your right elbow on the table, grip your glass, lift your glass, drink, lower, repeat, repeat, repeat…

I am a bit concerned that once I start drinking pinot noir and doing family research on the web with my mother the messages to my brain and limbs get a bit muddled and I become all left handed.

The burn is because I had to iron one thing. I left the iron upright in the middle of the board to rearrange the thing and misjudged the space I had to operate in. I am quite surprised about that because I can reverse park a car with the greatest of ease.

Count yourselves lucky I have not done actual pictures.

Left elbow ironing blister?

Tomorrow: new fish in the tank.

My least favourite word (of all time)

A nose.



Edited to add: In this context I can tolerate the word (and drown my sorrows!)