Father forgive me for I have sinned. It has been over a year and a half since my last confession.
Not that it really matters. There was only ever a limited, rather muted readership for my blog and I seriously doubt that anybody's life has been any the poorer for my lack of tedious, uninspiring, tawdry ramblings.
But, having said that, it is time for me to return! Hurrah and hurroo.
I won't bother with the usual "so what's been happening?" nonsense, as it really would be very boring indeed. Suffice to say, I am still single, still in the same job, still struggling with the usual existential problems.
Instead, I will explain how I am here today.
For the last three weeks, a trip to the pub has been planned. My boss, bless him, arranged a visit to a local hostelry so we could all sup, chat and generally have a wonderful time. It was planned for payday. I looked forward to it.
Come the big day, I arrived at the pub, spent four hours there drinking a pint of ale and three large vodka's, and eventually came to the conclusion that I wasn't going to to get at all drunk. Don't you hate that? When you're in good company, with copious boozage, but are completely unable to actually get drunk.
Five o'clock arrived and I decided to cut my losses and leave. With a brief visit to the supermarket for sustenance, I arrived at home, ate a sandwich, surfed the net for half an hour and then promptly went to bed. For the first time in ages I was starting to feel depressed. Not the normal, "God I'm bored" depressed, but the worrying chemical-imbalance, bi-polar depressed. This concerned me greatly as I've been clear of it for some months now.
I awoke at 2 a.m. refreshed and eager to consume the bottle of vodka that I bought in Sainsburys.
So, I find myself here at 5 a.m. slightly tipsy, but far from drunk.
There will be more blogness coming soon but, for now, this is merely a brief visitation to what once was my online psychotherapeutic outlet.
