It has been one of those weekends.
It all started innocently enough when myself and a few of the neighbours went down the pub for a few scoops of a Friday night. You know yourself how it is when the craic is mighty and the drinks are flowing? The idea of going home didn’t occur to us.
I don’t know what time I got home but I made it in one piece, even if I stall can’t remember where I left my trousers.
Yesterday didn’t happen.
Even today, things are a little flaky but at least I can see only one of everything. Of course my Puter insists on choosing today to act up and even the broadband has decided to slow to a crawl. It hasn’t done that before so I reckon it must be slowing down in sympathy with me.
What saddens me is that it looks like age is catching up with me. Gone are the days when I could drink solidly through Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights and still be up with the lark of a Monday. Gone are the days when I could safely sink many pints and still have a clear head in the morning. I can’t have had more than eight or nine pints on Friday but they had an effect on me that I have never previously experienced. The one drop of consolation is that one of the neighbours just dropped in looking for some Aspirin and he is a good deal younger than me. Young people these days just don’t have the stamina.
The one big problem is that I missed out on all that happened in the world yesterday. None of the neighbours knows either.
There’s only one thing for it.
I’ll have to nip down to the pub tonight to catch up on all the news.
Now if only I could remember what happened to my trousers?