Good and Bad Experiences

Another weekend, and another special day. This time my very first Father’s Day. I am beginning to expect waking up and being treated like a tribal demi-god, showered with gifts for the Almighty by naïve tribesmen with wide-eyed awe. (Or C3PO in a Star Wars reference) However, this is my last occasion for six months, so no danger of getting carried away with it and actually believing that I have a direct line with a super being.

But, it was quite nice while it lasted. A photo frame filled with the images of my two little cherubs, and a book on Tao Philosophy and its integration in the Winnie-the-Pooh stories. Strange!!! I will give you my review after I have read it.

Also, a victory was celebrated this weekend to match the efforts of Wellington at Waterloo, Nelson against the Spanish, and Robson and Jerome keeping Wonderwall off the top spot. Your hero, and auspicious author, has finally defeated the powers of evil and claimed his first Poker win. A sum, higher than a tank of petrol and lower than a tank, was received by me for playing with such skill that the other poor contestants could only sit by and watch as I pillaged their chips. I was in Salford as well, so I left quick smart afterwards in case there were any repercussions.

Due to the intoxication of this famous victory, I returned home in obviously jubilant spirits. Stood in the kitchen with another protagonist, Claire and a lady ready to give birth herself, I decided that now was my moment to join a special club of adult breast milk drinkers. I took my favourite shot glass out of the cupboard and poured myself a tipple, from a bottle in the fridge already chilled to optimal drinking temperature.

DISGUSTING!!!!!!

I’m glad I have taken my window of opportunity in a man’s life to do this legally, but my advice to any other in my position is, trust your first instincts and don’t be so stupid.

The worst part of it all, was after I’d had a go on the milk of human kindness, my fellow companion also puckered up and took a swig of the good stuff. I think that in a way my effort was an extension of a spiritual rite of passage, but the extra round is surely a deviant act.