Sunday, 12 December 2010

Cirrhosis, mistletoe and wine

December is one of the most brutal months of the year when it comes to binging. As the countdown to Christmas hots up and the desire to be at work totally evaporates, drinking is everywhere. There is no escape. The only way round it is to gird one's organs, man up and get down to business. Clinky clinky.

'Business' began in earnest last week - Tuesday involved a text book post work binge which almost led to meeting a man about a dog somewhere on the other side of London. Thankfully the less manly (or more sensible) option of test tubes full of jager was chosen, which just about made Wednesday doable. Just.

The following evening saw us darkening the doors of Soho and the seedy environs of numerous haunts in and around Old Compton Street. The first boozer was overflowing with gazillions of bears and men in dresses. After numerous bickers and stellas, we ended up in GAY until way past a time approaching common sense for a school night. As you may or not expect, David Guetta was the main meal on the musical menu. Classix.

Thursday was the final school night session - flipping and reversing the campness and ripe sexuality of the previous evening for a dose of manliness in the form of the Pig's Ear Real Ale Festival in Clapton. The vibe wasn't men in dresses - more old, lonely blokes in shorts with facial hair sniffing down hard on ale nerdery. For these gents, ale is life. It was also pleasing to see that the purveyors of cheese sandwiches hadn't snuffed it in the year since the last event. Hats off to Neil and his unnamed mate. They've made it through another 12 months. Which, if every month suddenly takes on the boozey mantle of the festive period, could be unlikely for some of us. Eek...