Well I feel truly alive. I've just driven to my mate's house to drop off his wallet (he'd left it in the pub last night) when my car swerved on a wet patch in the road. If I had been a second or two later, I would have hit a car coming the other way. Instead, I just righted myself and carried on going. Life feels flipping great!
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Yesterday I had my first alcoholic drink in over eight months and it felt great. I'd recently become bored with my sobriety and there was no way I was going to stick it. I had become resentful towards it, so it seemed fitting that on the way to Peterborough for my first away of the season, I should have my rebirth. I know I'll have to stop drinking again if I lose control (again), but we'll just take it one session at a time.
Anyway, I'm absolutely shattered, thank everybody in the heavens for providing me with the inspiration to book this morning off. Thanks to a few wrong turns - a regular occurrence for my supporters' club - and a timely stop at a pizza shop, I arrived home last night after three o'clock. Praise be to Tim Cahill for stopping any chance of extra time and possibly penalties. We'd still be somewhere around Derby now if that was the case.
I'm not looking forward to work this afternoon, I just hate it now. It's getting beyond a joke. Can someone please fix it for me to win a few grand on tonight's lottery? I'd be happy with that. As long as I could pay off my credit cards in one go, I'd be quite happy leaving my job until something else came along.
Now I've just got to try to spend £0.00 for the next eight days (other than my money for Newcastle on Sunday). It shouldn't be too difficult as I don't have any money available.
I've been off sick for the last two days and I have come to the conclusion life really is rubbish. Whilst I've been off I have had at least three missed calls/voicemails from work asking "Can you just give us a quick call?". I wouldn't mind if I was some high powered type who the company looks to for direction, but I'm a proper oik. I'm one of a strange breed though. I don't mind work calling me when I've booked time off (I give them my mobile number just in case - it's either do that politely or they ask someone they know to be your friend for it instead), but I get a proper mood on if they call me at the weekend or when I'm off sick. Especially the last one because I'm hardly ever off sick, so if I'm off, it's not because I've had too much to drink the night before!
I'm getting very close to celebrating eight months of being sober (not one drop of alcohol) and it is just getting closer and closer to being impossible. After going to the match yesterday, I went out all night just drinking diet coke or soda water and it does my head in. Celebrating just isn't the same when you're being sensible. I definitely can't see me at any festivals next summer without a waxed cup in my hand for the entire weekend.
But I've now got the problem of how long it is going to take me to get any level of alcohol tolerance back - bearing in mind one of the reasons I stopped drinking was that I had very little of it in the first place.
But regardless of all of that, life is good for a son of Saint Domingo this weekend.
I've just finished eating my Ginsters and I can now positively say I have just been on one of the strangest nights out of my life. I met up with an old friend who had just split from her long-term boyfriend (no, it wasn't for that reason - she's way out of my league) and we were having a laugh but we fancied moving on from the country pub we were in as it was it felt like half the village were listening in to our personal and vulgar conversation. Being the gentleman I am I said "Where do you want to go next? I'll drive wherever", to which she coyly said "Would you mind taking me to a strip club? I've never been, but I'd like to but I don't have the confidence to go myself". So off we went.
For anybody who thinks a trip to the lapdancers is sexually a turn on, it's not. It's bizarre and freaky and comical. It's especially so if you're with a girl with an enormous chest. Oh and lapdancers are territorial creatures. They wanted her out as quick as possible.
And I'm now thinking of putting my irrational hatred of Johnny Borrell to one side as their new album has really impressed me. Nah, his face is still too irksome.
In the last week, I've lost a girlfriend and refound all the things which make me happy. I never realised how much I had changed my life for someone else. But anyway, I'm back in my own world again and tonight I think I have settled down to something which is going to carry me through for the foreseeable future. I've come in from the pub (sober as alcohol was another thing I had to give up for her) and I've stuck on the Glastonbury film dvd. First off it was a few of the uncut tracks (Macca, FLC and The White Stripes) and now the main film is on.
I feel I owe a lot to the Glastonbury Festival because there is no doubt that it has changed me as a person in a variety of ways. In fact, I wouldn't like to know the pre-Glasto TheBoyInTheBubble. I'd probably be careerist, self-centred, affluent and not a tent owner. I wouldn't have wanted to have the speck of social conscience and political knowledge I have now. Not that I have a great deal, I'm not Chomsky, Trotsky or (thankfully) Bush.
This summer I haven't been to any festivals purely because I was told that I couldn't go to any unless I wanted to be dumped. And then I did get dumped when it was too late to get the funding/tickets/logistics in place for any festivals. I'm not going to regret it though because it has made me realise exactly how much I do love going to festivals - particularly Glastonbury.
So now, 10 months before I hope to have a magic ticket to an even more magical world, I'm preparing myself for the time of my life. I've made a list of the things I need to purchase in the months ahead, I've convinced some people to try to get tickets with me and I've even procured my father's car for that weekend and printed off the route!
I know a lot can happen in 10 months, but Christ Almighty I'm excited already!