When I was younger, there were no school nights. Just nights. Days were largely irrelevant. It was all about the after. 4 hours sleep, no problem. Bottles, shots, glass upon glass. Getting drunk, getting high, living on the crest of the wave called 'never missing out'. Never missing out on what exactly? Everyone else, fearful of the same thing. Of course we were all missing out. "Having fun you say? Umm, yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Certainly something, anything had to be better than the same old places, same old drunk faces, surely.
Now of course things are different. I do more, I see more. I feel better. More alive than I ever did then. Now, drinking on a weekday is illicit and gleeful, if no doubt disastrous for the rest of the week. Of course I appreciate we all need to drink less, and somehow I've certainly managed to lately (the nearly 30 killer hangovers may have just clinched it), but sometimes there is nothing greater than the unspoken shiny-eyed look which passes between you and your co-conspirator, standing on the cliff face of that second bottle, which says Sod it. Why not.
Remind me of this in the morning, would you?
(Wine: Albariño Martin Codax Rias Baixas. Great white, with a bite. Shoes: Nine West. Stilettos you can live in.)
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2 comments:
Bad Dave! Glad you were having such a fun night. How is your head? My top tip for such evenings is to drink really good, single vintage champagne. None of that Veuve rubbish. You can get away without a hangover if you do (and you know what a lightweight I am).
Head was horrific. Thankfully less so today. Despite not heeding your advice. Good gin, good wine, just too much of it together... People with b'days. All their fault. So selfish...
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