That I even have a fruit bowl, is the first admission I’ll make on this rather “forgive me Father” Sabbath day journal entry…
Forgive me, for I appear to have rather over-embraced my inner ‘Metrosexual’ wannabe, released as it was yesterday like some kind of bottled up camp genie, deliriously happy at the prospect of all the indulgences available, given I was home alone for the weekend.
The early hours of yesterday began with feet firmly (despite the number of drinks I’d had that evening) wedged into hetro-man world. I was in town, out with a mate from my football team. All the raw ingredients for a “boy’s Friday night” were in play: games of pool, booze; sports talk; rock music – life was uncomplicated.
You’ll imagine my surprise then (or some won’t, as it would seem many of you clearly “outed” me as a metro-man many years back) when in a moment of mild panic yesterday evening, I briefly took stock of my day’s activities, which included the following: Continue reading →
A fitting state perhaps to welcome in the start of the festive season, although the combination of last night’s beers, 5 hours sleep, Martha wailing like a banshee, and Florence enthusiastically using me as her personal drum-kit, was not quite the ideal scenario first thing this morning in terms of remedying a sore head.
I used to love December back in the UK. It can be the most indulgent month of the year, and also the most random in terms of habits.
On the social side, for example, people start warming up their red wine and adding in fruit. More pastry gets consumed in one month than during the whole of the rest of the year. For some reason, we also decide it important that we simply must meet up with certain friends for Christmas drinks, often people we haven’t seen or heard from since the previous year when we committed to do the same, but one of us bailed out due to being “crazy at work”, “down with the flu” or “double booked” for the night. Continue reading →