I can't do it any more.
In the good old days a few gentle ales with Dyer would bring on nothing more stressful than a spirited argument about footy.
Nowadays it brings on losing my wallet in a cab, getting annoyed with the bank when I ring up to cancel my cards as if it's somehow *their* fault that I'm drunk and have left my wallet in a cab. Getting annoyed with my wife as if it's somehow *her* fault that I'm drunk and have left my wallet in a cab. Waking up full of self loathing and having to concentrate REALLY HARD to fight off an attack of the heaving bokes on the tube.
That's only what's happened so far, fuck knows what the rest of the day has in store for my stupid old knackered frame and poisoned mind.
I've a feeling a limb might burst.
|