So it is the day after the night before.
I’m quite hungover but also feeling smug that I resisted the temptation to carry on drinking and was in bed by 2 am
G is on his way back from Germany after his niece’s Bat Mitzvah. Bat for girl Bar for boy (another interesting fact learnt this week)
He hates flying so I know he will be drinking Brandy before and during the flight. This also leads to him drinking on arrival home to celebrate his survival.
G is a happy drunk so I really don’t mind. Drinking also takes the edge off his usual strict and quite entertaining rules. The bonus for me is I will be able to have the heating on high (strict about this) will be able to wear my fluffy socks (he hates them) and will be allowed my blanket on the sofa ( infuriates him) all of which will pass him by as he sits watching his latest ‘end of the world’ programme in his ball of drunkenness.
At 3 pm receives text from G: At airport, please buy cider, wine and The Sunday Times.Me: Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr don’t want to leave house but OK as long as we can have Thai takeaway (G doesn’t like take away food, says they are never up to scratch) he agrees.
Obviously I am still in my pj’s. chuck clothes on and head for front door armed with car keys and debit card. Empty space on drive where car usually lives. Remembers I left it at the train station. Back in the house, wash, apply makeup and dress in appropriate clothes to walk neighborhood that always poses the risk of bumping into ex-girlfriend (not mine, his)
Enters the local Wine Shop and peruses selves like I know what I’m looking for. I don’t, I generally just look at the price tag and go for something in the region of £8 to £10.Pick a bottle and asks nice man if they sell cider. “only this madam” presents me with a glass bottle of posh looking stuff. “mmmm not sure if he likes that one and I can’t remember the name of his favorite,it’s OK I will leave it and just take the wine”. Of course I know the name of his favorite it’s frigging STRONGBOW.
Spots a shop across the road called ‘Local’, dives in and immediately clocks said cider in the fridge. Approaches till and delights in the glory of The Sunday Times.
Feeling a little tattered and torn, still smelling of Black Russian from the night before , armed with Wine, Cider, The Times and 4 packets of space invaders I suddenly wonder what people must think of me or more importantly what would think if I saw me. Educated pisshead perhaps?
The guy in front of me also has the said brand of cider and The Sunday Times. He asks the nice lady ” Do you sell Mango Chutney?” his voice is that of an upper class, possibly private schoolboy manner. Educated pisshead who is making curry tonight? It wont be any old curry, I bet it will be goat curry.
Jackpot, hands over items and asks (in my best, put on, posh voice) “do you sell chamomile tea?”
Couldn’t pretend not to be a piss head but I defiantly pulled off being educated 😉