Day Twenty Six

T minus 4! Actually it’s officially T-5 but today is over with already and I haven’t drunk so I’m counting from tomorrow.

Had a lovely swim this morning. Was in the pool by 8.40am and out by 9.15. I remember going to the pool years ago when I was a heavy smoker and drinker and I thought that I had better try to get in shape and that was the only sport I was ever interested in. I clearly remember struggling to do 10 lengths and feeling like a lung had fallen out and was floating around somewhere bumping into people. I think it took me about 30 minutes too! That was when I realised how unfit I was.

Hell, at that time in my life I was living 15 minutes walk from my place of work and I used to get in the car and drive, which used to take me about 20 minutes thanks to the traffic! I would come home at lunchtime, stick some chips in the oven and probably a Fray Bentos pie and scoff the whole lot before going back to work.

At another workplace we used to call the local cafè and order egg and bacon or sausage butties at mid-morning, then I’d probably have a couple of packs of crisps and a jacket potato at lunch! I wasn’t fat though…podgy yes, but not a porker (surprisingly). It’s probably because I used to dance it off on a Friday and Saturday night in the clubs.

At said workplace we once had a drinks reception for the opening of the new office, sent out invites to out Clients and called a wine merchant to bring around 15 bottles of wine (I don’t remember the exact amount). We had been expecting more people than the number which actually trickled in on a Friday afternoon, but the upside was that there were loads of bottles left over, of both red and white wine.

Needless to say these slowly disappeared and started dwindling, mysteriously. On a Friday, if the boss wasn’t in the office we would crack open a wine and sit there in the office and slowly get drunk, waiting for 5pm to come around. Obviously this is a sackable offence and I wouldn’t condone it, especially if you’re operating machinery!! But this was a small office and most of the staff were out, usually, so we would pick our moments. The risk is, of course, if the boss rings up and you’re slurring your words.

This would be a prequel to the weekend and, as pretty common place in the UK, Friday at 5pm means pub time to kick the weekend off with a bang…sometimes literally as I remember one such Friday down the local bar a woman fell off her seat head first and was so drunk she didn’t even bother putting her hands in front of her to soften the blow. That must’ve smarted the day after and I bet she didn’t even remember why she had a bloody-great lump on her head and a whopping headache to match.

Isn’t it funny how, when you’ve been out for a night on the tiles, you always end up with strange bruises, cuts and scrapes on you the next day?

I feel it’s time to regale you with some of the antics I used to get up to whilst in a drunken stupor. But I think I’ll save that until tomorrow…