Thursday, June 16, 2005

fire and rain

When I start drinking whisky one is rarely enough. I enjoy it. I tend to talk a lot when I’m drinking whisky and most of it is rubbish. The other thing that happens is that I lose my memory. I have watched and, apparently, enjoyed so many films in my time only to happily watch them again days later as if for the first time with zero knowledge of the plot. This is all much to Mrs Backroads annoyance who, a) doesn’t drink whisky and b) even if she did, would probably remember every twist and turn of every film she’d watched. It’s like liquid Groundhog Day.

Last night I had a few too many whiskies and have absolutely no memory whatsoever of what happened on Celebrity Love Island. What a disaster. I had to ring Mrs B from work this morning to get an update (apparently Rebecca Loos was voted off and Paul Danan continued to be an absolute arse).

The other symptom of whisky over-indulgence is feeling down. I’m normally a fairly ‘up’ kind of guy, but when I wake up after taking on too much fire-water, my cup is always half empty and never half full. Trouble is, I now recognise this as a symptom now and deliberately adjust my behaviour to compensate for this natural tendency to be an Eeyore. This means I often end up trying to be bouncier than Tigger whilst feeling like poo. Sorry, I meant Pooh.

Perhaps I should try crack as an alternative? What do you reckon?