It's amazing the way that things can change over the years.
I hadn't been awake for long this morning when I got a phone call. Shortly thereafter I was in the company of the prettiest girl in the world, munching a breakfast roll and reading the paper while we waited for Lidl to open. A rather lovely start to a Sunday.
20 years ago I probably started a Sunday with a hangover. Which brings me to an interesting observation. If I was given the choice between "no beers" (or any kind of intoxicating liquor) and "enough beers (or etc...) to make you wish you were dead in the morning", I would unhesitatingly choose the abstemious option. I just can't hack the hangovers any more. It used to be a case of "oh God, give me another drink". Now it's a case of "kill me, please!"
I guess it happens as one gets older. I've recently seen a Facebook group called "I don't have a hangover, I am actually dying" and I understand the sentiment completely. Would you believe that I've even given serious thought to going teetotal? I've had a bottle of whiskey in the house untouched for God knows how long, and there are bottles of beer in the fridge that must be dangerously close to reaching their Best Before date. I just don't enjoy it the way that I used to. Every once in a blue moon I really fancy a pint, but the nearest thing I can get to an enjoyable pint in Cork is probably one of the stouts. I miss Real Ale! But even if I had unlimited Abbot Ale at my disposal I wouldn't be going overboard.
I guess I've had my share. I'll have a cup of tea, please.
No comments:
Post a Comment