Well this working week of not drinking anything alcoholic so far in January has passed without a hitch, nothing to report apart from I feel ok, bloated from no alcohol beer and squash, stomach acid brought on by guzzling gallons of fruit juice and smoothies, and wind like you wouldn’t believe.  So I’ve come this far, visited the local boozer tonight with my mates, drank 3 large bottles of non alcohol ale and rode home on a cushion of fart gas, i’m now permanently sitting like some sort of Hovercraft.

And it makes me think, well what happens next?

Dry January they call it, and myself and Mrs T are attempting it, I’ve passed the first test; being in a pub with drinkers, the second test could be the boredom, then there’s the health benefits, mental and physical and if the rain ever lets up then maybe I can get my   rambling shoes on again and start to clock up some miles.

The last few months have found your hero passiively wondering where the hell he stashed his travel diaries, and even more worrying his adoption files, letters etc. I know I have them but had no idea where and was concerned the cold in the loft or the damp in the outhouse at Mum’s may wreck them. Well fear not and be prepared to be  bedazzled as I found them, in a plastic box, cold and afraid but still pretty healthy, and over the remaining years of my life (which should be about 45 years in my estimation) I aim to get them written down somehow, someway. 

Adios Mother Funkers, may you have a wonderful Saturday in which I plan to clean out the hot tub and lure my swinging neighbours into a frenzy of speculative activity.

The Photo is Worcester Cricket pitch flooded and taken with my drone yesterday