Keep on Pinting

If I was going to describe myself as having had a drink, my definition would be that I’d had 5 pints. I’m not saying I could drive after 4 (inability to drive makes me AS capable after one Coke as after 7 vodkas). What I mean is that if I met someone in a pub and we had 2 pints and that was that I wouldn’t describe that as “having a drink”. Maybe I’d say I’d had a couple of pints but I would almost certainly, without thinking, add “but I didn’t have a drink-drink”.

Questionable alcoholism aside the reason I mention this is because I tend not to stay that near this arbitrary beer border; I’m an all or nothing (dickhead) kind of person. Yesterday, though, I had the borderline amount. A solid five pints of lager in South Manchester’s best decorated commune, Chorlton. Pleasant afternoon with friends etc. Got home had tea, yadda yadda yadda.

Today woke up and felt fine. This is a fucking story and it’s getting a lot more fucking boring. Fuck you. So, I went for a run. Really took myself out for a proper one, nearly four-and-a-half miles.

Did you ever have a night out where someone annoys you and you think you’ve lost them only for them to turn up again and it really deflates the mood you had built up in their absence? No? You never tail ended a night out in my company then did you?

This was the feeling I got about three-and-a-half miles into the aforementioned run when these pints reared their head. I wasn’t sick. I just stopped feeling like I had gone for a long run WITHOUT having had five pints. It started feeling like I was several miles into a run the day after having several pints of lager. I had to stop and walk for a few minutes – that’s how real it got.

Freud Egg

I really don’t like the going on about of dreams. But if anyone reading this is a dreams analyst can they please tell me what this dream means: my dream was that there was a horse winning the grand national with a blind jockey. Everyone wanted it to win and then some other horses started to catch it. But just before they pulled level the horse with the blind jockey pulled away and won.

Maybe it was something to do with the Paralympics.