Now I don't drink really. Or if I do it will be one or two drinks about once a month. Last night I went to Arun's to play poker. £20 in the pot and then 1st, 2nd and 3rd share the doings. I came fifth to not so good. But I also managed to finish most of the dooleys that I had left there a couple of weeks ago when Arun had a party. That night I only had 2 glasses. Last night I had a lot lot more.
It is difficult to write about as I loathe stories that start "I was sooooo drunk and..." and I hate hearing about what people do when they are inebriated. So boring. And I am largely of the opinion that people are just acting up and using it as an excuse to be an antisocial arse when they do do stupid things. And even though I had had a lot there was no hysterics, no clothing went missing, I said nothing I wouldn't be prepared to say in front of...not my mother but Pooch, say. Basically I just had a laugh.
The other problem I have with drinking to excess is where people want sympathy for self-inflicted hangovers. Ah, yes. Now I'd like to reconsider this. People do not deserve sympathy unless you owe them for a time they were sympathetic to you in the past. Which brings us to Pooch. I have sympathised a lot in the past and so have been expecting him to reciprocate. While he has been a ministering angel he has also been taking the opportunity to take the piss. Pooch has no poetry in his soul. To further prove my point this is me half dead while he just watches TV.
You will note that I am (attempting) to knit on circulars. I think it's too early to say I am a convert but I like the cut of their jib.
I was going to put pics of the sock wool etc up but I just can't be bothered. I see an afternoon of minimal movement ahead of me.
Before I forget...here is the little jumper for feed the children. The one I've cast on on circulars has some eyelash yarn in pink being knitting in at intervals.