On a Friday, my favourite thing to do,usually with Pal of Porty, is to get hammered. We generally go to the Ormelie or All Bar One first, we start off with a beer or two then hit the vino. We never run out of things to talk about, we're like a couple of old women. Most Fridays we forget to have anything to eat so our bodies take a severe doing. Its not good for us, indeed its positvely dangerous. So this Friday, with PoP off to see Sting in Newcastle, I decided to have a quiet night in.
I cooked Bruce and I some pizza and we were having a bottle of bud. Mostly sitting in silence as we tried to deal with his dismal 6th Year report card.
The next thing I know? I'm in Accident and Emergency having slashed my leg open on the oven door. On Monday I went to give blood and they wouldn't let me and tonight they almost needed to give me some.
Isn't life strange?