12 hours later...

Well, that was a disaster.

I may have to rethink my “going out once a week” hypothesis. Although, perhaps not liking it is really the point. Just to get myself out of the flat and amongst the general populace. It might make me appreciate staying in more. You know, away from… them. I changed rooms in the pub at one point, just to get away from the guy who kept saying “Christian name” instead of “first name” or “forename”. But, alas, I found myself sat with two media types, pontificating about how wonderful they believed they were. I swear British people are turning into loud, entitled Americans.

To add to the above, it was one of those dark-before-dusk afternoons, that made it extra difficult for me to get around. Classic Monday weather. Really demoralising.

At least going out forced me to get a ton of personal admin done. I ended up having to right the bank, as it turned out I had two debit cards active on their system, so the new one that arrived three years early just needed discarding. I also posted that blood pressure log and my prescription on the way into town. The driver was kind enough to get out of his vehicle and post it for me. I didn’t even ask. He got the change from a tenner after that £7 journey.

Oh yeah, my bank balance is deadly close to the limit for claiming disability, hence my needing to share it around liberally.

You’re not allowed to attempt to better yourself when you’re dependant on handouts and without hope.

Anyway, once I got home I just had a grilled cheese & marmite and went to bed. There are actually twos slices left on the counter, but they need throwing out. I assume. My appetite is quite low right now, so much so that I never really added to my grocery order by the deadline. I think I’ll be having a takeaway tonight.

Oh and my after-pub nap lasted 12 solid hours. Amazing. As I always pontificate, say what you like about alcoholism, but at least you get your rest.

I’m mostly over the hangover now, which hasn’t been too bad. I guess I did only have 3 or 4* points in the pub, then a can of cider once I got home. I really don’t like my post-pub mindset, which is why I usually find it easy just to go to bed after. My week-long binges usually form out of drinking alone at home.

*6

What else? Nope, that’s about it. My old school friend started replying again, so I assume the rot of the working week has started to set in. I’m that last step you take before the knife.

Speaking of pontifs, I best go and finally finish off The Agony and the Ecstasy. I feel there is some major Charlton Heston grandstanding to come. And why not. Regardless of his nasty right-wing politics, he is very watchable.

What?!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!