Last post was self congratulatory. I’m done with booze, I don’t need it. I’d taken on the drunks and heavy boozers, the tipsy and sodden losers and I had won. I had faced them fair and square and was pleased with my life alcohol free or LAFing as I now call it. But this weekend a new breed of drinker entered my domain… Yes, I came face to face with ………
Now Los Bastardos are that breed of drinker that can enjoy one glass of wine and make it last 2 hours. That’s who have been staying with me the last two days. Nice people, sophisticated people. That’s what makes them bastards. It’s easy to dismiss and feel aloof about pissheads and drunkards but moderate, sensible drinkers project a calm self assurance and discipline that screams,”oh so you have a problem Jim, you can’t drink in moderation so now you’re missing out on this wine, brought to you direct from the wine god Bacchus, an elixir, life enhancing, so smooth and velvety , poor Jim, you weak, pathetic excuse for a human being.”
Anyway they arrive Friday night, conversation a little awkward. They are quite formal people. I feel a bit anxious. I find it hard to speak, is there a speech therapist in the room! The booze would have helped, but I’m stranded. I open the wine they brought; a really nice full bodied Rioja. They also bought me some Trappist beers. This was turning into some kind of sadistic torture. “Here we are Jim, really good examples of what used to be the centre of your life. Here they are, they’re yours.. But you can’t bloody have them!” Bastards!
As the evening wears on I feel more relaxed and don’t really miss the wine. What intrigues me is how slowly they drink. With me, the first glass was a palate cleanser. Down in one, quick alcohol shot and now let’s enjoy the second, make it last, let’s see, about 10 minutes. That’s how to drink. But they sat there, drinking slowly, enjoying, savouring it. I knew they were doing it deliberately, taunting me; the bastards. I wanted to reach for the Rioja and bludgeon both of them over the head with the bottle. Death by Rioja. Everyone would be bemused, Netflix would make a documentary about it but I would know why they had to be dispatched. Instead I smiled and poured them more wine.
Towards the end of the evening, the bottle was finished. 3 people, 3 hours, 1 bottle. Who are these people? I knew as host I had to offer more booze. All I had were a few bottles of very expensive Chinon given to me as part of a retirement present. “Oh yes please,” they exclaimed. I opened it, my wine! I poured it, my present! They supped it, those bastards.
The bastards had a nice evening and in truth so did I. I didn’t really miss the drink but the evening highlighted for me why I’ve embarked on this journey. I was not and I doubt I ever could be a moderate, one glass an evening guy. In truth I’m not sure I would want to be. Everything in excess isn’t that what they say? It was an interesting experience and all part of the journey and of course my guests were far from being bastards. The only bastard was my resentful, bitter, selfish former self trying to raise his pathetic, drink loving head. Down Boy!
Onwards and Upwards my friends, keep LAFing!