No Booze, No Fear, No Heavy Lifting For Two Weeks

Not many males, at least according to my Facebook feed at the weekend, are fans of Royal weddings. Some blokes, unhappy with the option of simply not watching the wedding of Harry and Meghan, have even gone out of their way to prove how anti-Royal-wedding they are. Banners have gone up, and anti-Royal rants have been scatter-gunned across social media, and that’s all fine. I know there are politics involved here, what with the spending of taxpayers money versus the tourism trade the Royals bring in. It’s not a debate I want to get into, or care enough about to discuss, but it’s one that rages on nonetheless. So, given my general disinterest in the whole thing, I was quite happy with the idea that I might have it on the telly in the background, but would also gladly miss the entire thing pending motivation to hit the climbing wall, or go shopping, or grind through some more matches on NHL 18 on my dusty PS4. Continue reading

Number Of The Beast

Today it’s exactly 666 days since I last drank any booze. I get married in 2 months so I’ll be celebrating the 2 year mark on my honeymoon. Pretty fitting I reckon, considering that I wouldn’t be getting married had I still been drinking. I was a different person – not particularly the marrying type – but also no woman in her right mind would have wanted to marry that guy. Skint, sweaty, selfish, paranoid, unhealthy… dashingly handsome though so, you know, every cloud an that.

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