Given a Good Kicking

You may be wondering why there hasn't been any posts over the last couple of days. Well, if truth be told, I am recovering from taking a bit of a beating. Battered and bruised most of Sunday, licking my wounds on Monday . On Saturday, after a few brews in Wilsden, me and Mossy decided to have a few beers in Clayton, as it was nearer to home. Everything was going along swimmingly, until we stumbled into the Albion, were I got into it with an old adversary that I hadn't crossed paths with a few years. Sambucca. At my age I should know better, but the young bar keep was pert and friendly, and after we did a Jagermeister with her, she smiled and returned the favour with a round of Cranberry Sambuccas. Of course they didn't taste nearly as bad as they usually do, and Mossy insisted on another. Combine this with ten plus pints all ready quaffed, and we were on a slippery slope. I vaguely remember having two or three more, and ringing cab. My next memory is pissing down the side of our lasses motor, falling over in the bathroom. and waking up with television nearly knocked off it's stand. Of course Sunday was a write off. But at least I made it home. Mossy decided to walk home, which meant he spent a few hours asleep in a field, after realising he didn't live as close to the Albion as he thought. Where's sensible Kev when you need him?