Went heavy on the sauce last night. I had no plans, so my neighbour’s solution was to have a few. Don’t know what it is , but we were both feeling good and fed-up. Strange to feel like that on pay-day but there you go. I haven’t been drunk in a good while, can’t actually remember when…think it was the new teachers welcome party which was the second week of April. Goodness Aine, letting the side down a bit there.
Oh Lord was I feeling the pain this morning.
seriously.
Came to the conclusion though, that it’s just not worth it anymore, this whole drinking melarky.
What on earth is the point to it really? Last night was so void of a point. Needless, stupid drinking.
The weather was forecasted to be rainy, but alas no, twas a beautiful day, the kind of day picnics were made for. I was so mad with myself, for wasting this day because my head was planted in my arse, or at least it felt as though it was.
Decided to go for a swim. Saturday afternoon. Children, fucking children everywhere and the wonderful bonus of being the only westerner there, as per, ( usually i ignore the gapping but today i was not in the mood to have have my every move scrutinised.
“Have a good olde gawk for yourself now Sir. Yes, I am a white woman, and Christ, could they be round eyes in my head? Good Lord! And look at that, a foreigner swimming…I thought foreginers were all too busy training to be terrorists to learn a sport.)
Lordy, the noise.Why must they be so noisy, these children? Isn’t it enough that they’re bounding off the balls, without the sound effects?

It made me wonder though, how parents become alcoholics. Aren’t children annoying enough on a good day with a decent night’s kip nevermind, on a torturous morning after the night before, when you feel like you’ve just licked piss off a nettle and there they are your wee kiddies, screaming and yelping, fifty times louder than any decently loud American you know.
if you wanna be able to wallow in a good honnest hangover, then don’t bother with children.

What do I get for my pa-eeeee-aaaaaaa-e-ain, as a hungover father-of-twenty-three Billy Corgan once beseeched .
Nothing Billy. Not a solid thing.
just an even bigger headache.