Deciding on a takeaway pizza for the evening meal was the biggest exercise in negotiations since the Maastricht treaty was ratified in 1992.
Sometimes I develop a romantic notion in my head of a place – somewhere I have usually never even been to – which bears absolutely no relation to reality. Well, now it is the turn of Canada.
Inside the metal carton were ribs, and they were my introduction. In retrospect they were very probably very bad, but we loved them.
Every time I feel comfortable in a friendship group, it all falls apart, and I learn that I was never one of their friends after all.
One of them was asleep on my front; the other one tugged at my hand, slouching her way down the wet, cobbled street. Both were deathly tired.
This is all an hallucination. I am currently strapped in to a dentist’s chair, in my old neighbourhood, having hallucinogenic compounds drip-fed directly in to my eyeballs.
I have just bought sixteen litres of highly caffeinated “Energy Drink”. It will arrive the day after tomorrow. I got a really good deal for it, thankfully.