I didn't really intend to blog over the holidays, but after about 48 hours of no internet exposure I begin to experience withdrawal symptoms. I'm not really sure how I ever survived without an internet connection when I was a child; my home first got the internet when I was 11, though for several years I had to endure a painful dial-up connection, and the only thing I had the patience to use it for was homework and browsing Amazon's book catologue with lust. (Yes, lust. I loved my books when I was a kiddly-wink.) Now we have Broadband and
All this is beside the point, though. I only came on here to wish you all a merry Crimbo and to tell you all the
I'm not a big drinker (I'll have a glass of champagne for special occasions and maybe the odd vodka and coke when I'm out and feel obligated to drink because everyone else is), and yet I struggle to get drunk when I do drink. The most drunk I've ever been has been room-wobbling-drunk, but it wore off after about half an hour and I didn't even get a hangover. I'm a lucky sod, aren't I? But yesterday all my drink-mixing must've done something to me, because this morning I woke up, looked over at my knitting, and thought to myself, "My scarf looked like it's been mauled by a lion."
Thankfully, my mother is like one of the Shreddie-knitting grannies, and she managed to undo all my drunk-knitting and leave me with a tidy (if slightly thin) scarf. Apparently my tension is tight. You're freaking well telling me.
I think I'll lay off the drink today. People tell you to have a merry Christmas, but no one ever suggests you have a merry Boxing Day.
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