A trip to the Seaside
Ok I missed June blogging as I spent a rather bazaar Month trying to see if after five months off the booze I was now ‘cured’. Surely by now I had a stunningly clean liver, I was detoxed, refreshed, redeemed and ready to rock on again. Errr that’s a No, it seems Irene hasn’t changed one bit and within a few mouthfuls of Gin tasting/guzzling she still seems very fond of: Telling no one in particular accidentally stumbled upon in person whilst out, out, to fuck off, stop applying your make up with an emulsion roller, you’re prettier without half of Superdrug on your face (cringe) Playing Russian roulette with phone and texting random ‘friends’ to fuck off –(apologies to you all again, you know who you are) Slouching all over husband before telling him to fuck off and stop moving his shoulder before vomiting all over it (thank god and long live the VAX) I asked Rob once I had sobered up, ‘What the...