One effect of serving my time & getting older is my ability to hold alcohol. I can’t do it these days. I should really know better & despite the warnings ringing in my ear from Mrs Weeks as I leave the house not to try to keep up with the younger ones on the shift, after a few pints I can’t remember what day it is let alone what my wife told me 3 hours earlier.
Another of the rats left the drowning shift this week, off to pastures new in a different department. We ended up in one of these bars that I would not normally be seen dead in. Mirrors everywhere, a bar in the middle of the room so they can serve from all angles, & full of people my children’s age. I was forced to try to blot out all this younger living with copious amounts of Kronenberg 1664. It did the trick.
Not like years ago. I used to live in police accommodation, the police bar was 3 minutes walk. If we weren’t on earlies we were down there most nights. Young, free & single with nothing to spend my money on. And fit enough to work the beer-induced fat off. I once woke up on a beach in France after one particularly heavy night down the police bar.
I suppose I should be thankful that with age my liking of & ability to consume alcohol is diminishing, but I wish I could remember this when the rest of the shift drag me out for the night. (thank God for rest days & carpeted toilet floors!)