Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world

I had to walk into yours.

Sorry about that.

Typical barman after I've been in.

Typical barman after I’ve been in.

This is the completely opposite post to my declaration of sobriety last week. Turns out, I may be able to survive without meat and carbs but Sophie Anna Fox aged 28 and ¾ really struggles to exist without wine.

It is also important to note that you can still be a fat vegetarian – if ever come across Gwyneth Paltrow I am going to slap her with a kebab for lying to me.

In writing this I can almost feel a therapist analysing these posts in the future. Frantically searching to discover the reason why I am prancing round her room reciting the Declaration of Independence and insisting she call me The Countess.

“So, Countess, when did you first realise you might be slightly unhinged?”

“Well I suppose it all started when I decided to write a blog, now must dash, I’m meeting Sting for a game of Fives and he’ll cry if I’m late!” *skips out of office singing*

Therapist, if you are reading this, hello. The fact I have a therapist, either means I am rich but have no friends left to talk to, or it has been ordered by a tribunal of some kind. Either way, I think we can all agree it’s been emotional. Don’t judge me Therapist Lady, I’m a nice person really.  Now give the Countess a hug, and just check she has flat shoes in her bag before you let her leave.

I know what you are thinking – “Sophie’s been out, I bet she’s managed to make a fool of herself, this should be funny”.

Well you are wrong.

About the fool part, not about the funny part, (I hope).

I know for a fact I managed to make it through all of my social engagements without falling over. That alone is an achievement in my book. Not only did I do this but I also survived not one but two trips to KFC without so much as a nibble on a chicken wing.

 

hungry_pug

Sooo close to carbs!

The guy at the gym had the cheek to tell me I need to work on my core strength. Well Mister, you don’t know what strength is until you’ve stood outside KFC after a wine and managed not to order a mega bucket and gravy!

Whilst my achievements this week are numerous, it is piffle compared to my lovely friends.

Dear Reader I am proud of you too, that thing you did the other day was bloody brilliant!

Congratulations have to go to Jenny and James for the loveliest wedding in the world.

To Jam and LT – well done on turning 30!

Some would say that isn’t technically an achievement but with the palaver that is growing up in modern day Britain it is a wonder any of us make it out alive. I for one still can’t believe I made it through primary school without turning to a life of crime to pay back my POGS debt.

To those that said "play for keeps" at the start and took it back when you lost. Shame on you. you know who you are.

To those that said “play for keeps” at the start and took it back when you lost. Shame on you. You know who you are.

 

Massive round of applause for Jade who did a triathlon! Apparently that is Swimming, Cycling and Running. In Lycra.  What a hero!

Anna, my darling I’ll miss you loads but if you moan one more time about how hard it is to live in constant sunshine, I swear I will revoke your visa myself! hugs x

To all my other friends who did something fabulous this week – take a moment to pat yourselves on the back. You achieved, which is a lot more than can be said for the clasp on my sports bra which finally decided enough is enough and promptly gave up on me. Thank God it was after spinning and in the comfort of my own home as that could have been mightily embarrassing. “Extra firm support”, my elbow.

Unlike the aforementioned brassier I hope to be a source of comfort and support for my friends. Unfortunately not everyone feels the same.  These are the people who often start sentences with “Sooo, how are you feeling this morning?”

If you do this. Stop it. Stop it right now.

Me? I'm fine.  I chose to look like death this morning. How about you?

Me? I’m fine. I chose to look like death this morning. What’s your excuse?

What these people don’t know is that despite the brave face and the flippant attitude, on the inside we are dying.

I’ve had days where I’ve thought I would rather peel my own skin off than relive last night’s antics and the only thing you can do is exhale loudly and occasionally swear at yourself for no reason.

This is more commonly known as The Fear and is liable to set in somewhere around 5.30pm on a Sunday night.  Just as Surprise Surprise is on.  Housemate has found me many a time wailing “They’re twins but they haven’t (sniff) seen each other (sniff) in fifty years (collapses into sobbing freak show)”. 

We all deal with The Fear in different ways. In this day and age (lord I sound old) it is impossible to enjoy a hangover without some fool posting a picture of you on Facebook.  Normally they look amazing whilst you look like a slobbering moron.

Again – you know who you are.

I tend to go off grid after a night on the wine to give myself time to recuperate.  My friend Chess deletes every single number from her phone. All of them. Clare used to hide her iPhone in my wardrobe so she couldn’t be reminded of the night before. It is the modern day equivalent of running away to Mexico.  Until we develop the ability to turn back time, this is the only way we can feel better.  It’s annoying, sure, but totally and completely necessary.

c/o Edward Monkton

c/o Edward Monkton

The point is that when you do something humiliating there is a period in the instant aftermath where you have to make a choice.  Do you own what you just did and laugh at it with everyone else or do you submit to your wounded pride and feign injury so people feel bad if they laughed at you?

I’ve done both and option A is definitely the way forward.  Otherwise you get tangled in a web of lies that involves pretending you’ve shattered your knee whilst a stranger tries to find an ice pack and then fake hobbling away.  True Story.

So, even though this week I am exceptionally proud of myself, it doesn’t mean to say next week will be the same.

I just have to think rationally about it.

Calmly.

Zen-like.

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the …oh sod it, make mine a large one!

Speak soon

Soph xx

4 thoughts on “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world

  1. I love your style of writing and it’s a great way to start the weekend, Soph…reading your blog before tucking into a bacon sandwich with HP Brown sauce and a mug of tea. Well done to you for all the achievements you made this week.

    Like

  2. Pingback: Q: What Happens When a Fox Goes to a Festival On Her Own? | Sophie, She Wrote

  3. Pingback: The more Facebook follows I get, the less likely I am to die alone. Right? | Sophie, She Wrote

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