I have slipped off the wagon after a disappointing two weeks. I am now running alongside the wagon, easily keeping pace with it and I could jump back on at any moment and continue my journey, but there's the danger that there's a pub round the corner and I might have to pop in, ostensibly to have a go on the fruit machine, but you know, once I'm there....
What I'm trying to say is that I had two whole glasses of wine after my Nottingham gig tonight. Never mind. I suppose that unless I am going to give up drinking forever (which I'm not going to, do you think I'm insane?), then I have to learn to be moderate in my intake, so in a sense drinking only two glasses of wine is a triumph rather than a defeat. In an incorrect and lying sense.
My exercise regime dictates that In any case I can't really spend too many nights getting pissed off my face before April (but seeing as I've got a gammy ankle at the moment there's nothing to stop me).
I saw the play "Hurricane" earlier in the week. It's about the snooker player Hurricane Higgins and details how his increasing dependency on alcohol helped to destroy both his career and his marriages. It really made me want to have a drink, which I'm guessing wasn't the writer's express intention. But there is something heroic in wilful self-destruction and it's a heroism that I aspire to. Like most heroic acts though it is something that I am unlikely ever to actually achieve; I am too much of wuss to seriously dedicate my life to boozing. At the end of the day my health and my job mean too much to me. This is a shame; there is nothing worse than being a moderate drinker. Even tea-totallers have a sense of dignity and often a history of heavy drinking behind them. Moderate drinking is a badge of shame, which is why "moderate drinker" badges are one of the worst selling lines at Badges-is-us, the badges superstore.
But not buying the badge is no protection against being outed, because as the moderate drinker retires to bed after two glasses of wine, the heavy drinkers keep drinking in the bar, mocking the moderate drinker for his pathetic moderation and after all the drink has gone, they sneak up to the moderate drinker's room and tattoo his face with the words "moderate drinker". Which if you think about is going to make the "moderate drinker" badges doubly redundant. Only an idiot would buy a "moderate drinker" badge if he already had "moderate drinker" tattoed on to his face. It would begin to look sarcastic. The "moderate drinker" badge manufacturer must be rueing the day he manufactured those badges that are cluttering up his stock room. It's enough to drive him to drink.
None of this helps me get over the fact that my new year's resolution lasted a paltry 15 nights.
There were no sandwiches tonight; instead the much better option of a takeaway pizza. You know how much I love pizza. And if you don't, it is a lot. So I was very pleased, even if it wasn't the best pizza in the world (nor the worst either. It was very nice. But then I do love pizza. A lot. So I might be biased). Thus Nottingham night one receives a respectable sandwich rating of 6.5 out of 10.