things I have not learnt despite being 40

sky
Originally uploaded by etcher67

Dear Self,

Please desist from getting drunk. Getting drunk leads to waking up at 5.15am filled with the horror of what you might have said. Other nasty consequences include the terrible guilt of having to text Phildar and tell her that you are too ill to go dancing, and the inability to do anything much all day apart from moan gently and lie down a lot. This is not brilliant when you have people coming to stay and ought to be crisis cleaning.

Self, you really cannot take more than five normal sized glasses of wine, especially on a mostly empty stomach; and the ones they sell in the pub called 'large' are not only ruinous on your purse but count as at least a glass and a half. Repeat after me: 'I'll have a small one, please'. Also, when you look at your glass and it is half full of wine which you are not especially enjoying, the correct answer to the question 'Would you like another?' is 'No thanks'. Please remember that you do not have to match your companion drink for drink. Indeed, to do so is a grave mistake.

Now go and drink some more coke and get an early night tonight. You'll feel better in the morning. Probably.

ukulele me

Wobbling up the road from the station on the way back from an evening in a cellar bar I focus on a couple in front of me. They are arm in arm, one with a guitar case slung over his shoulder and the other swinging what looks suspiciously like an ukulele bag. I am forced by an unseen hand to speed up a little until I am level with them. I eye up the case trying to decide if it contains what I think it does. The thought of someone else in my town playing the uke is very exciting. My staring shows, and I meet the eyes of the bloke with the guitar.

Dare I?

After two bottles of wine? Of course dare I. 'Is that a ukulele?' I ask
'No, it's a t------,'(I can't remember, Its all gone a bit hazy). 'It's a sort of small guitar' says the lady carrying it.
'Cool!' I say; the mistress of intelligent conversation.
'I don't play it,' says the woman, 'I'm carrying it for Jim.'

I suddenly remember that I am in London and should therefore not be having this conversation. Instead of asking the them to tell me more and finding out where he's been playing, asking them round for tea sometime and making them my new best friends like I really ought to, I smile, speed up, and continue wobbling up the road in front of them. I am a bit rubbish.



Thanks to Unreliable Witness both for the tune and the means to post it! :)