Giddy, Not on Beer, and Slightly Suffering

A recurrent theme on our modest little blog here is alcohol. One of Andy’s first posts was on the subject, which was responded to by some uptight maniac who we jointly destroyed with wit, charm, and foul language (we’re pretty formidable when we’re all gunning in the same direction). Since then there have been odd references to our prodigious intake of booze, musings on the nature of hangovers, all sorts really… I don’t think anyone’s posted while pissed, but if we haven’t it can’t be far off.

But in an interesting development, we had another one of only a handful of boozeless practices the other day, fuelled only by the recuperative and majestic powers of tea. Of course, all was well, and it paid off because we all seem totally knackered at the moment and red wine would only have exacerbated that. Yet I have to be honest – sobriety at rehearsals is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I’m not sure why that is – I think a glass (bottle) of wine limbers us up, makes us more reckless and therefore more likely to surprise ourselves with some moment of quality playing, or inventive jumping around. Certainly, after a Piscorp sized tumbler of wine my ability to play and think through chord progressions at the same time (“C# minor… Bb maj7… E minor?… bollocks!”) is greatly inhibited, and this is a good thing – all sorts of exciting craziness occurs when one forgets what you’re supposed to be doing.

Anyway, the point of this ramble. End of the month, skint yet again (another regular moan on here), making dinner last night with pasta, and basically anything that we have left in the cupboards (I even ended up whacking the last few pine nuts in it for a laugh… we’re so Guardian). We even ran out of milk, so after Libby nabbed the last cuppa it was water, or for the hardcore, squash for the rest of the night. A puritan evening then, leading to an early night to afford myself an active and productive day at work. And what happens? I awake with a dreadful non-hangover, with all the symptoms that the usual hangover gets away with because they remind you of the night before. How is that fair? Thankfully I got paid today, early in the month, and so I’m going to stock up with cheap whisky and vino on the way home… it’s clearly the sensible thing to do.

PS – Gillian McKeith? Kiss my arse.

Petros Petros Pisco