Wednesday, 16 September 2009

Beer and Regrets.

There really should be some sort of health warning on alcohol because yesterday was taken away from me just because I decided to go drinking with my friend, John, on Monday. An entire day gone. I did practically nothing. I woke up, I groaned myself into my clothes and I dumped my skin and bones on the sofa until bedtime. This is only partly got to do with me drinking heavily, of course. It mainly got to do with me being 41 and drinking heavily.

It used to be so easy. I could go out for an evening, have 32 pints of lager and a couple of bottles of red wine, making sure I had a cheese sandwich first to line the stomach. Then I'd have a few shots of whiskey and a birthday tequila. In the old days every day was my birthday and I'd have lots of birthdays every single day. Sometimes up to 12 birthdays a day. Now, I'm lucky if I can handle 1 birthday a year! I'd go out drinking in my 20's and the next day I would wake up at 7am, go for a run, do a spot of gymnastics, then slip back to bed to pleasure what ever lucky supermodel(s) that I had brought back to my yacht. In Monte Carlo. Monte Carlo in space. That was all so normal but now it's as if alcohol is now more interested in younger, less experienced people to offer it's good times to. Like some liquid Avalon.

I really have to learn to stop doing this to myself. It hurts. It hurts and it's exhausting and you don't get the congratulations or sympathy you get when you're younger.

Today, I decided to change my ridiculous lifestyle again again. I had a run, I ate fruit, drank lots of water and did an hour on the Wii fit. I got up and started working immediately. I actually got things done. I woke up ready to go because I had zero booze the night before. There might be something in that. Some sort of scienceman should look into that.

Then it hit me. A revelation the size of Issac Newton's when the apple fell on his head. I was walking Jerk and feeling quite happy about the day and all the things I'd got done when I felt like a shaft of light from Jesus' big torch had shown me the way. I realised that getting work done and looking after yourself is nowhere near as enjoyable and satisfying than getting beered. Then something else hit me. It was a half full can of booze.

It was thrown at me by one of Lewisham's many park-based, bench dwelling characters who shouted "Get your fucking dog away from me" as he threw the can at my head. Jerk was behind him at the time but he felt that as the dog was sniffing a tree behind him that I completely deserved a can of booze in my skull.

I couldn't really be angry, mainly because he seemed to have his anorak on upside down and he obviously just realised that he'd thrown booze away. Wow, if that wasn't a sign for change then I don't know what is.

Out of all the people who died yesterday, my favourite is easily Keith Floyd. I shouldn't like him (he's a murdering carnivore who cooks flesh on television for money) but I do. I may not be able to follow his recipes but I do like him leading us all in example of drinking wine and shouting while on telly. He was definitely a change to normal TV chefs when I first noticed him in the 80's mainly because he was far from dull and, although he paved the way for less interesting people to swamp the TV schedules with more carnivore cooking, I loved the fact that one day he just stopped doing what he was doing because he hated the people in television so much. I don't really like the way that near the end he drank just to pass time and often alone, but my memories of him are very fond. He once set fire to a boat. That's nice.

James Hingley and I have received a lot of good feedback for Precious Little. Thanks for that. My favourite piece of feedback came from someone who hated our theme tune so much that he wrote and recorded his own for us to use. That was really lovely. That said, we're still using my version. We should be recording the second one on Sunday so subscribe at iTunes if you fancy it. Thanks again.

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