Jesus, I’m a bit squiffy.
Haven’t been drinking much since Mathew was born,
but Philippa offered to drive today, and Ted’s son Alan brought some home-made
strawberry cider.
Jesus.
Sounds a bit sickly and a bit too heavy on the fruit
ingredients, but it tasted like squash and was soooooooo easy to drink too much
of.
So I drank too much of it.
I then found myself enthusiastically roaring on
Scotland in their Women’s World Cup match against England, because I’d forgotten
they were playing England and I wanted to support the nearest team to my home. I
think it was halfway through half-time before someone pointed out my mistake,
which they did by calling me a ‘wazzock’ and throwing a pork pie at my head.
The drive home went by in a mixture of blurred
hedges, my chin hitting my chest, and me talking 1000-words-per-minute about some
really weird shit.
Now I am trying to clear my head enough to be able
to untie my shoelaces, because that simple task seems to be baffling me and I don’t
want to fall asleep with my trainers on.
RC 9-6-19
2150 BST
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