Alcoholics Anonymous!

Rumour has it that the blogging world has missed my many pearls of wisdom extensively. Bearing this made-up, ego-boosting statement in mind, I have found within me a new urge to digress my thoughts to the public and conceal them in the immortal time capsule that is written word. Rather than formulate blogs of constant drivel, I decided to choose a topic. Hmm… Alcohol!!! The cause of and solution to all lifes problems has not been such an ominous presence in my life of recent weeks. My new found enjoyment of teetotalism, or in actual fact moderate drinking, stems from feeling healthy, the possibility of my chin numbers declining and revelling in a bank balance that does not sink too fast. I can conclude that I am in no way addicted to it. Of course I take zestful pleasure in a refreshing beverage after a hard day but no more so than anyone else enjoys their treats and luxuries. The thing I would struggle to leave behind is the jokes that accompany it. In hindsight I believe I created a character for myself that relied on alcohol as a joke. Not that I was acting, I may merely have exaggerated certain aspects of human kind in my demeanour. Examples being laziness, in not bothering to walk to the bar, or being tight with money such as squabbling over whose round it was. These do cause me to chuckle. Maybe I became too consumed by these ways that my friends couldn’t actually see any other side to me. They may find it shocking to see the cultured being I am that delves in books such as To Kill a Mockingbird and ballets. Ha now my plans of not spouting nonsense have evaporated quicker than my dreams of playing the guitar like Jimi Hendrix. As a young one I believed I had discovered the deal of the century. A salesman offered me a brand new guitar for £5 but in retrospect, when he said ‘no strings attached’, I should have taken his word literally. Oh dear that joke sounded better in my head. In fact it’s hard to make a good quip without succumbing to levels of crudeness and vulgarity. I shan’t be sinking to such depths because, dare I say it, I am whipped like ice cream. Talking of ice cream, the man who used to sell us our 99s and lollipops in scorching sunny days of summer past, perished recently. The police found him covered in nuts, chocolate sprinkles and strawberry sauce. Apparently he topped himself!!! Ha, heard that one before? Well to further your horror (Or rather laughter if I’m lucky), I witnessed the incident first hand. Guess what I did? ICE CREAMED! Get it? No? Ok, time for bed!