Febfast
I’ve decided to go on the FebFast and Right Foot has volunteered to keep me company. Twenty-eight days without alcohol. It’s going to be very hard.
On my way home I usually start thinking about my first chardy while waiting at the Glen Iris level crossing observing human nature at its worst. Some drivers would rather see you go under a train than let you into the stream of traffic. That’s when I start to feel like a tipple. Half an hour later I am pottering around the kitchen tossing a stir-fry together, sort of watching the news, chatting with RF and sipping that anticipated glass of de Bortoli. It is so relaxing and I am going to miss it so much.
RF has been Googling ‘non-alcoholic drinks’ and trawling the Thomas Dux catalogue in the hope of finding some pretend wine that looks appealing. No luck so far.
On the plus side I’m expecting not to fall asleep on the sofa by 9.00 and maybe even see the end of TV programs as well as the beginning. We’ll see.