Chatterbox Tuesday

My hangovers now overlap which is a nuisance.

Resolve that by starting drinking again at lunchtime.
The physical pain will disappear.
Who gives a fuck about emotions?

I don't get hangovers.

I may be genetically superior, by I think its mainly because I never stop drinking.*

Thats a thing Scottish people do, right?

* this is a lie. I haven't been hammered all year. I dont even remember the last time I had more than a single beer. Who am I?

I have no idea what this refers to, but I approve.

I last drank a pint of beer in 2012; and apart from a trial glass of wine in 2015, which made me falling over drunk halfway through, my last glass of wine in June 2013... 😢

Pseudomonas and a mystery fellow traveller infection, besides putting me in septic shock multiple times, once it started boxing my kidneys, reversed a lot of my tastes. Fucked up kidneys make alcohol damn near lethal.  And for a guy who had drunk beer or alcohol every single day bar one for 38 years it was bloody devastating - but I realized that I would be stuck with drinking 3-4 litres of fluid a day. And I have done that for 7 years. It has kept me alive, even when the consultants reckoned I had a day or two to live in 2017.

But strangest of all was the sudden switch in 2013 from drinking 2-3 pots of black filter coffee a day to drinking weak milky tea. Weird as hell. And I hated the flavour of wine; my mind recalls and savours it, but my mouth reacts like I imagine it would with piss. FFS I prefer tapwater!

But I sooo miss going to my once favourite pub, the Red Lion at Coleshill.  It's now lost its dartboard and I suspect its crib and dominoes - it's now the highest rated restaurant in Amersham, which says it all.

I’ve actually been to that pub!

We made an attempt to finish off some of our open bottles of spirits on Saturday. Sunday morning was...unpleasant.

Totally wearing sweaters in May.

Drugs are bad, mkay?

So, this morning I found a note from Jeff telling me that he's very sorry he's missed me and that my stuff is in my safe place, aka the wheelie bin. I don't think Jeff tried ringing the doorbell. The only outstanding delivery from Jeff is my collection of Tintin books, so I was wondering whether this might be it. And it was, sort of. I was expecting one large and heavy parcel with all the volumes. Instead I got two envelopes, one containing a hardback copy of Flight 714 to Sydney with a nice complimentary note from the bloke who sent it, wherever he may be. The other one contained a copy of Tintin and Alph-Art, the volume that remained unfinished (I have never read that one) and a hardback copy of Tintin and the Blue Lotus. Only the latter was a compact half-size which I had been at pains to avoid. Oh, and it's in French. Imagine this had happened to amipal.

So it looks as if I should be very lucky to eventually receive everything I ordered. At the moment I'm not inclined to make a fuss about it as long as the rest of the order turns up okay. It looks as if the books are going to be sent from all four corners of the earth.

Then this afternoon I found that a plastic bag with Very labelling that obviously contained some clothing items had been squeezed through the letterbox. I hadn't ordered anything from them, and of course it's for a different address on our road. Turns out that this was the handiwork of Yodel. I'm afraid the neighbour will have to wait until tomorrow for me to deliver it. The house number is on the f*&%ing door, you numbnut. Sigh.

I'm not sorry.

A good pub is the best.

I'm pretty sure yodelling is a good way to spread infections.

So we're in mini nu-lockdown. Except the child is going to school and I'm going to work on Thursday. Trying to work out how I can use this to avoid a WebEx call tomorrow.