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the morning after
Last night seems so long ago.
Just a distant memory.
There you were – sitting before me.
So full of promise.
So full of spirit.
A fun time, waiting to be had.
Once I got you home
There was a brief tussle when I took your top off.
And then you were open to me.
Giving yourself freely.
Warming me.
Filling my head with thoughts and desires.
But this morning my warm feelings for you have gone.
Replaced with mild regret.
I look down at where you lay
Empty.
Hollow.
Discarded.
And I sneer.
You were by no means my first.
Many have been before you.
I am sure that there will be many more after you.
You will not stand out in my memory.
You are just one of many identical to you.
Last night was your only night.
And I am not altogether sure that you were worth it,
Oh empty vodka bottle.
And in other news…I think I may still be a little drunk.
the demon drink

Inappropriate?
My elderly (21 years old) cat has been a very poorly puss this week – in fact I even ended up working from home on Monday because I was so worried that she wouldn’t last the day and that The Girl would come home to find her dead.
She’s way better now btw…but this has hardly any relevance to this post
On Tuesday was my work Christmas lunch, and so it was one of the few chances that our disparate employees manage to get together and go out. Hence I was in the pub when The Girl called me at about 4.45
The Girl: I just wanted to ring and let you know that Suki had some water – which I thought was really good news
Me: it is – it’s brilliant news. Does she look any better?
The Girl: just a little bit. She still wont let me touch her though.
Me: well, she’s old and obviously in a bit of pain, and feeling sorry for herself – give her time hunny.
The Girl: Mmmm. *pause* Where ARE you?
Me: In the pub
TG: Why are you in the pub?
Me: because it’s good
TG: I don’t think thast it’s good
Me: Why not?
TG: well, you might drink lager, or wine…
Me: or vodka?
TG: yes – or vodka…and start behaving inappropriately
Me *absolutely pissing myself*: You are worried that I’m going to be inappropriate?!
TG: yes
Me: Have you ever seen me be inappropriate?
TG: No
Me: Do you know what acting inappropriately looks like?
TG: No
Me: well, don’t worry your pretty little head darling – I am totally appropriate!
Of course, when I got off the phone to her, I started dancing on the bar and whipped my knickers off.
(The last bit might be a lie)
farewell to the noughties!
So – it’s farewell to the noughties (obviously sung to the tune of Farewell to the Fairground by White Lies who I saw at Brixton a few weeks ago).
I love New Year’s Eve/Day. I always have. It means more to me than Christmas that I have never really been that keen on. I love the idea of a shiny new year – one that can be full of anything. I love the fact that everything that happened in the last 12 months is now definitely behind me and can be classified as ‘last year’. New Year’s Eve is like a final full stop at the end of a chapter that you have now finished editing. that probably makes no sense, but it always fills me with a little frisson of excitement to be on a new page of life.
2009 had some very hard parts for me, but I think it will probably go down as the year that me, my other half and my daughter really got so much closer. That’s something I really want to build on in 2010.
Last night was bloody marvellous – our local must be one of the few pubs in London that doesn’t charge entry on New Year’s Eve, and seeing as it takes us less than a minute to get from our front door to theirs, it’s always a favourite haunt of ours. So, our mate came round first and we had a few swifties and went over there about 9ish, by which time most of the regulars were there anyway, so we were in brilliant company.
There was a live swing band there who weren’t too bad either. And my friend also came down that I wrote about yesterday – the one where i’m trying to put an elastoplast over our slightly broken relationship. So that was nice. the disco went on til about 3 so I had a good boogie and came home feeling happy, full of love, laughter, vodka and the excitement of a new decade.
Although what the hell IS this decade? It can’t be the teenies as 10, 11 & 12 are ‘teens’ – they’re ‘tweens’. Do we call it the tens? It’s just very confusing, and I don’t like unanswered questions!





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