After the 'eclair incident' I was driving home when overcome with the urge to drink wine. Red wine, a glass of glugging ruby nectar. A mouth watering worry for I'm incapable of drinking a solitary glass. Call me weak, call me shallow, it is impossible. So, I'm driving and thinking. Then hey presto it's the supermarket car park and a done deal, it would be churlish not to go in. The first aisle is cleaning materials, dusters, bin bags, fabric conditioner, furniture polish, all the stuff I've needed for sometime but managed to ignore. In my basket at the checkout amongst household items a single bottle of wine nestles like a baby.
Once back home I don't need alcohol because I am strong, then hey presto the bottle is open and it would be churlish not to drink it. A glass helps me put away the furniture polish, fabric conditioner etc. But only one glass mind.
All plans are now changing because BOLLOCKS, if a person can't have a fucking glass of wine when a person gets home from work then what is the point of living!?
I cook some tea and I'm feeling pretty fucking good and the wine is tasting pretty fucking good, and the world is looking pretty fucking good. So, its another glass then.
By 8pm the bottle is finished and a mate rings. Let's go for a pint, drink some beer. Fucking top idea. Come 11pm a glass of Jamesons to help wash down the beer seems de rigueur, and why the fuck not? What is the fucking point of living otherwise?
This morning at work I opened the fridge door and eclair man climbed out. I think he takes comfort from the darkness and the cold.
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