Ambushed

We moved out of our old office today. That meant we decamped early to a bar down the street to celebrate. And that meant that by 6 I'd sunk two gin and tonics, where gin was the operative word and tonic was some sort of garnish that may have been waved in the general direction of my glass at some time this year.

And that meant that by 6:30 I was home, bereft of the power of speech and bumping into things. We made the best of things, and after a few hours of idiocy (involving a tofurkey sandwich, among other highlights) we went back out again, and I started drinking again.

Luckily I wasn't on the gin any more. Unluckily I was now getting shitfaced on strong ale on the third floor of a Russian restaurant in Singapore, so that wasn't so much of an improvement. I also had a Sebastian Faulks book to read (Pistache) and a wife who found my inadvertant drunkenness hilarious. So cruel, so cruel.

Pie-eyed and not-very-bushytailed, we made it back to the apartment and put on the last two Harry Potter DVDs, in some dumbass attempt to hammer through the last 5 hours of the series. Harry Potter 7.1 was hardly a laugh riot, but boozed off my face this wasn't so bad. Settling down now to watch the last two and a half hours, I feel alarmingly sober - will I make it through this last film with my mind intact?