No More Open Graves!

          I really enjoy drinking. Sometimes I think it would be nice to go to a pub on a Saturday afternoon, place a few bets on the horses and have three or four pints of Guinness. Or sometimes meeting someone in a bar around eight o clock and having a nice chat, a few pints, and getting home around eleven still compis mentis. But the actuality of drinking these days fills me with despair. It's the usual story. It's three o clock in the morning and Brian Wilson is trying to flush your head down the toilet. Or Poisonous is pouring vitriol into your ear along with glasses of brandy. It's got to stop. I'm not having any more ruined mornings!!!

          So I've decided to take the advice of One Chopstick Harry, who knows all about buddhism, and said buddhists don't drink. I'm not really a buddhist, but I'm not going to drink either, at least not with Brian Wilson or Poisonous. In fact, I'm not going to drink with anyone except me.

           You can hide from hangovers in the bliss, but it's not as good, and you don't settle because your nerves are frayed. Without the hangover what a time I would have had this morning!! I know what I'm missing.

            In the afternoon I went for a walk round the Botties. The sun shone for a while and the colours were sometimes gorgeous. Then I went over and meditated on the bench in the allotment with the sun shining on my face and my newly bare scalp. I ate some raspberries.