I’ve mentioned in passing a few times that I don’t actually go out that much, some weeks not at all, others two or three times but that’s usually followed with a quiet period.
Many a night I go out with the plan being to catch up with a few friends for a beer or two and a wander with me leaving the house telling Stickgirl I won’t be late as I’m just going for a few with the boys.
It’s often heard that I’ll be getting the last BTS home which is just met with laughter. I’m always full of good intentions but it seldom happens.
Bars mean beer with nobody taking no for an answer when it comes to the offer of a San Mig. Now I’m not complaining as I enjoy a beer and some banter but all that booze starts adding up when you buy a round back before the next pit stop.
And that’s my biggest mistake – thinking I can catch up with everyone in one night. By the time 1am comes around I’ve got legs like snapped candles as my mate Gav The Gaffer once described my condition.
At 45 I’m too old for all that boozing but does that stop me doing it? Does it hell.
I never learn my lesson which is probably because I seldom suffer from a hangover as I try and stick to just beer – which is impossible in bars like Spanky’s where Jagerbombs are on the table in the blink of an eye.
And on the nights I do take it easy… well, the look on the faces of my mates a couple of weeks ago when I sat drinking coffee until after 9pm as I wasn’t feeling 100% was a picture.
With all that said, fear not people, I’m not drinking myself to death as all that crazy power drinking has been knocked on the head and I definitely won’t be going down that risky road that I see so many on.
More nights out, more water and coffee and home at a decent hour after hitting my predetermined limit of beers. It’s time to put those party hats away when you see me coming troops… I’m a changed man.