The eve of August plus prosecco

So it's thirty-seven minutes before 1st August 2017 and I am sitting on my sofa, full of prosecco (yes it's Monday) and perhaps a little tiddly. The words of a friend no longer in my community and a different friend via whatsapp who is currently in Freetown, Sierre Leone are providing me with the peace and encouragement whilst I live my little, (rather tipsy) individualistic lifestyle in Clifton, Bristol for another, week and another month, as another five minutes counts down.

Why did I feel the need to buy some prosecco on a Monday night? Why is one of the only friends I can draw solace from communicating with in Sierre Leone? Why do I live alone despite my best attempts to find an appropriate housemate? Why will it be so hard to get out of bed tomorrow morning despite it being a day off work? And why, did I just impulsively book a return flight to Spain for the bank holiday weekend in August? None of these questions have clear answers. All I know is that whilst I have been acting in a consciousness affected by ethanol, decisions have been made, money has been transferred and in the light of day tomorrow, regret may be encountered but whilst I have no one to talk to about these decisions and that fact of life does not seem to be changing any time soon, surely I can be forgiven for the inevitable bad decision made in a haze of prosecco and navel gazing? If not, then I live by grace and I need an extra portion please.



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