Why do I do it?
The last couple of times I’ve been out with people from the old work place, I have driven. This has been an informed choice - it both saves me money, and stops me from getting stupidly drunk.
Last night I decided to take a taxi.
When I got there, my friends had already been drinking for a couple of hours, so I felt the need to catch up.
One bottle of wine was ordered.
Embarrassingly, I had to ask the barman for a glass - not sure if he really did think I was going to swig it straight from the bottle.
I then foolishly got into a round with the bloke Q who used to work for me. Vodka and coke for me. Doubles.
I have no idea how many I had. It was one of those rare Friday nights out when I even managed to make it into town. Where, of course, I carried on drinking.
I do know I only just had enough money left for the taxi home.
I only got up at lunch time because I had to get to the hairdressers. I suspect I was probably over the drink-drive limit. My voice still sounds gruff.
I also managed to upset FKM without trying. He hadn’t been there - I guessed he wasn’t going to be, as in one of his rare interchanges with me he had said something about only working a 3 day week. However, one bottle of wine and about 4 double vodka’s into the night, I was at the bar with Q, when he smiled at someone over my shoulder. I turned around, to see FKM in a ridiculous light grey suit, and a pale blue tie.
I collapsed into hysterics.
He wasn’t pleased.
I was extremely pleased.