Most people look forward to Fridays so they can drink themselves silly. I work until 9 pm Friday and start again 10 am Saturday. Every other working day starts at 2:30 pm. Friday is the only night I have to restrict the drink. I am The Antibinger. When everyone else is drunk, I am sober. When everyone else is sober…
Tonight I am bingeing on sobriety(ish). It will hurt in the morning but I’ll be okay after my Saturday Lidl visit. I think I’ll stick with Glen Orchy again, money is tight this time of year and it’s a very good cheap blend of malts. Good quality whisky is easy to determine – if your head feels like it’s full of sharp sand in the morning, the whisky was crap.
If the world drops out of your bottom, so was the curry. If you are ever in this neck of the woods I will show you the curry place that sells lamb Ceylon. A wonderfully vicious curry that still burns on the way out but has a cleansing effect rather than a damaging effect. Perfect in cold weather, it feels like a furnace inside. You can melt snow by glaring at it. You can be a farting icebreaker. You can Be Global Warming! That curry is the reason the pavements here were frozen this morning, but are not frozen now.
I tried looking for some news that wasn’t about ‘old man dies of being old’ but the papers don’t seem interested in anything else today. He can count himself lucky he wasn’t in an NHS hospital. They’d have finished him years ago. So I became bored with looking.
Instead, here is P. J. O’Rourke who can write better than what I can, on the subject of plain packaging (found via VGIF).
And now, since I’m not drinking and therefore only have Whyte and Mackay, I will retire for the evening. I have ‘Inside Outside’ back with co-author comments and some beta-reader comments but can’t get involved in that tonight. Tomorrow night, maybe. I had it envisaged in the style of Aldiss’ ‘The Eighty-Minute Hour‘ but maybe it works better in the style of Asimov’s ‘The Gods Themselves‘. Less fractionated, perhaps.
I’ll sleep on it.