I went out last night and I found myself drinking eighteen-year old Scotch. It was a gift from the gods. Thank you.
The Scotch went straight to my head. I was just trying to hang on after that, maintain as we use to say. I felt like I was the only person drinking. John was sober. Patrick was sober. It’s always a weird feeling when you know you’re drunk and nobody else is.
I was talking to Ian at the end of the night. He asked me not to Blog about our conversation. The nerve of him. Luckily for Ian I can’t remember what we were talking about. I think it had something to do with underage girls and perverts. Sorry Ian. 
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