The piano bar

JULY 31 03

Fairly drunk, but sobering up before bed. Bit of a gin and tonic night. I lost Spoof for a round of shooters in a quaint bar with a white grand piano near the Angel. Quite a few were mixed with the yak-sick known as Jaegermeister. We've had bets about that before. One of the shooters was called 'Slippery Nipple', but I went for 'Mace', a pepper vodka with Tabasco and something else. The barmaid said I was brave to order that. I thought oh right aren't I glad I ordered that. But actually I liked it, down in one and slam the glass down on the table, quite a kick to it. Looked like it was going to pour down with rain all evening, but it didn't, so I was glad I hadn't brought my umbrella. Who needs crap to carry. As we were leaving the piano bar though I saw the street was full of umbrellas. Hogan I can hear smugly chuckling as he puts up the brolly he's been carrying around all evening, Skill also brollyless. And so it went on. More bars, doubles.

At present smoking a mangalore ganesh beedi with a cup of tea. I can't say as I like them, but it's something to smoke. Memory doesn't want to come to me again. I spend most of my life, or at least the past 10 years say, in a little bubble of now, can't recall the journey home, can't recall whether I've eaten anything even without having to think about it. Sometimes evidence like crumbs and cheese gratings remind me when going to get my second cup out of the pot. Always make a pot, why have one cup when you can have two cups?

'Is there…? Is there balm in Gilead?'

So saying, drunkenly goes to bed.