I got that eloquent expression – ‘bugger balls’ – from an episode of Sharpe. He’s saying he’d rather not go to a dance. But I like it as an earthier more testicular ejaculation.
And why that title under ‘health & wellbeing’? Because I had a boozy blip, yestereve. Several times of late I’ve had a single beer, or a small glass o’ vino. All the while trying to maintain control.
Last night I had a bottle of Shipyard IPA, a tipple I really love. I feel compelled to confess that the alcoholic version is sooo much nicer than the sans alcohol one. On its own that’d’ve been fine.
But I followed it up with a little 20cl bottle of neat rum. And that was, I believe, a mistake.
There is, or was, a part of me that’d like to be able to be a Tom Waits or Charles Bukowski type, all fags n’ booze. But I’m more like Woody Allen in Play It Again, Sam. And the truth is that those vices are – as everyone ought to know – pretty shitty.
They’ll do a Kerouac on you, and speed you towards a fat, grumpy oblivion. The ‘bad liver and broken heart’ that once sounded tragically romantic is now purely tragic.
There’s only one saving grace, as far as last night’s mini-debauch goes. And that’s that I didn’t go further, and compound my sins with even worse behaviour.
A very large part of why I’ve been on the wagon has been the further consequences of boozing. Fortunately the only such issues today are a bit of bloating and a slight headache. Could’ve been far worse!