Back on the wagon again and feeling, looking and acting a little like Wishbone, the cantankerous old and generally incompetent bush tucker chef on Rawhide. Unlike Gil Favor, capable of leading his merry band of whoremongers, gunslingers and well-tended cattle across the wild frontier and Rowdy Yates, able to shoot a rogue Apache from three miles away, I am mostly capable of moaning about the lack of supplies in my tuck-wagon and can only really cook well-spiced beans and commit entertaining goofs such as inadvertently setting fire to the ammunition truck.
Ah well, such is life and I suppose really it’s good to be back on the wagon. Good to feel the last tinges of lean-eye leave my face and the last vestiges of chilledness leave my mind. Good to abuse passing strangers when the nicotine rage takes hold, as yesterday when some rotarian informed me that my behaviour in talking incessantly into my mobile phone, while on a quiet carriage showed little consideration for my fellow man:
“You don’t understand”, I told him after unsuccessfully trying to deflect him with initial politeness. “I really don’t care about the quiet coach, and more importantly I really don’t care about any of you dicks.” This confused him, but the fear of violence saved him from uttering anything more in my direction.
Ah, the rage – constant gritting of teeth and erratic burst of thought. The nicotine patch on my arm helping by allowing a slow flow of poison into the blood stream, but not entirely saving the innocent and having the awkward side-effect of generating hot-flushes and moments of extreme anxiety.
Still, it’s really about time I got on this track again. The effort back in September was the right way forward and if it hadn’t been blighted by the best efforts of the fairer (surely unfairer) sex, I might have just made it. This time I am absolutely determined and if 40 days in the desert is what it takes, well then that’s what it takes. As Mr T once said when asked why he chose to wear so much gold: “Well if it’s good enough for Jesus, then it’s good enough for me.”
Good to hear you’re back on the wagon and once again crossing social boundaries in different, more agressive ways. Good work. I suggest a line or two of Tofu before the daily commute. Alternatively, I look forward to toasting our demise over a preposterous cocktail some time. I feel a trip of my own is needed. Will keep you posted.