2-6th January: The Year of the Admin

Having had fourteen days of excess there was something nice about returning to normality. So much so, the first thing I did on January the 1st when I woke up was to renew my tax disc: ladies form a queue because in 2012 I’m going to be pretty dangerous.

Along with 99% of all the other adults in the Western World I’ve taken the month off drinking. A week in, very little has changed for me except that I feel ready for bed at about 10pm. Not drinking makes you act like a pensioner whereas I guess drinking makes you act like a horny child. The non-boozing meant I spent a lot of my week meeting pals in the day time, which is refreshing because you remember it all and at no point do you get made to drink a Jaeger-Bomb by someone you don’t really know or like.

Carl Donnelly and I spent three hours on one of the afternoons playing darts in a pub drinking orange juice and soda water (a drink I had to excuse to the barmen by pretending that we were both driving). As Carl got a dartboard for Christmas and I received a scarf there a no prizes for guessing who won. However, it’s the taking part that counts as well as the enjoyment in shouting phrases like "and the first leg..." or “Carl you require, 67”.

To continue the theme of me turning into a old man, tardiness has really started to nestle on my tits. I arranged a lunch with some people for 1pm. Now when you arrange a lunch, you have to be on time because unlike a dinner, the middle meal of the day is the one where your belly needs food in it immediately. Carl and I arrived bang on time and two of the other three were 30 minutes late, whilst one was still in bed till 2pm. That is the behaviour of stoned student not of a fully grown woman. The result of all this is we ate at 1pm and then watched two other people eat there lunch. It’s like we got to compete in the semi-finals of an event but didn’t make it through, so had to watch the finals. The moral of this story, is don’t be late or you’ll get slagged off by a coward like me on a blog rather than to your face. Right I’ve got to go as I’m 10 min late for Sunday lunch.

This may have been the most boring blog I've ever written but hopefully next week my detox will go off the rails and I'll be able to talk about getting munted and punching a fox. Toodles