Eleven Months

It's been long time, eleven months in fact since I last posted my blog. I guess I crammed so much into my first posting that it took me a while to collate anything worthwhile to follow that first installment. The year has flown by and a lot has happened since...

Yes, there have been more Capers, I'm glad to say though the Capers have occurred with less frequency. Basically this has a direct link to less alcohol intake, I was and have been if I'm honest on the road to oblivion with the alcohol. Anyone who identifies with this kind of thing I'm sure will concur. You know, it all starts when we're a lot younger, the pub thing. Me and my mates trying to get in the pub...the humiliation of being told I didn't look old enough, the smirks on my mates faces coupled with the satisfaction that their bum fluff meant that they passed the eighteen years old test where as mine, well, I was hard pushed to find any. As was the then landlady of the Fox Inn. (see angelic looking mugshot one Onepotscreamer flickr site)

I remember one night a few of us went into Wigston Boys Club, this must have been an establishment where alcohol was served because I remember one of my very early and painful alcohol experiences. It involved a pint race with one of the Sneath clan, in fact I think we were all involved taking it one turn at a time to race against Mick. Well, I started brightly enough, we were probably racing with ordinary cooking lager, you know, Carling or Fosters. Very gassy and not unlike piss water. I held my own for two thirds of a pint then hit a noticable wall, I continued gulping..whereas my mates could belch to order, I couldn't. Never have been able to master this knack and it never occurred to me that this trick could save me from serious pain and discomfort. That pint sat in my gullet for an excrutiating ten to fifteeen minutes with nowhere to go. That gas ridden cooking lager seemed to bloat my stomack almost to bursting point, if that's anything like almost the point of giving birth then girls, I admire you.

When finally I did let out a trombone of a bone shaking belch my face expressed all the signs of a lad spared the gallows.