Day 84 (9 June): Brain Freeze
Frankly, if you have any jobs you should have done today but have not yet done just go and do them. You could clean out the shower drain, you know it needs it, or change the cat litter. You could defrost the freezer or pull those annoying hairs from your partner’s nostrils. Anything rather than waste your time reading this post. It is rubbish. You see I have striven throughout the weeks that I have been bringing you this blog, to speak truth and share my raw and unfiltered feelings with you. You have accompanied me through heartache loneliness and despair. But today all I can offer you is an awful hangover which is squatting where my brains should be. If you really have nothing better to do you can share it with me, or better still, take the damn thing.
I might have mentioned at some point that I have been concentrating during confinement on a fitness regime and I have hardly touched alcohol. Except to rub on my hands and eyeballs as per government advice. Yesterday was the exception. I was invited to dinner and both before and during that meal I enjoyed two strong Belgian beers and most of a bottle of red wine. My brother would think of this as a modest aperitif but I now feel as though I have been embalmed, my blood replaced with chemicals and my brains with straw. This perhaps would not matter or be noticeable were I baking you a cake or cutting your grass but my daily offer is based on thoughts and I’m not sure I can manage one whole thought today, let alone several.
I have resorted to looking up ‘hangover’ on Wikipedia where I have learned that “Avoiding alcohol or drinking in moderation are the most effective ways to avoid a hangover.” They don’t pay their contributors? How surprising.
Digging deeper I learn that some complex organic molecules found in alcoholic beverages known as congeners may play an important role in producing hangover effects because they are metabolized to toxic substances including formaldehyde - which just so happens to be the chemical they use in the embalming business and explains why I feel the way I do. Anyway, I now know it is not my fault. Somebody came into my room last night, threw my clothes everywhere and embalmed me. People who drink every day must be soooo glad when they have had enough and can stop and go to bed.
Oh golly gosh! I have just remembered that I ate a whole family pack of Singapore noodles and two Cadbury’s Chocolate Flakes. On returning from dinner! I’m not going to check on that tub of ice cream which should be there somewhere. I do not want to know.
Deep in that straw packed between my ears there must have been a little kernel of reptilian neurons which mused ‘He was on a strict diet before tonight? He’ll be even stricter tomorrow. Feast now!’
Straw for brains was the problem of the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz if memory serves. I might not get to hang out with Dorothy and I’m not sure what Alfie would make of Toto but I am very much looking forward to the easing of mobility restrictions so that I can follow the black tarmac road to my elder daughter in the U.K. I haven’t seen her since Christmas and I’m worried she will no longer recognise me. The last time she saw me I was hanging from a post in the middle of a field. It seems strange, but when I’m visiting her she is the one who explains how things work to me - after all, I’m the Brit and she is Belgian. She regularly has to stop me wandering out in front of oncoming cars (wrong side of the road!), explain that you use an app to order in a Wetherspoons and take the right notes and coins for payments on market stalls.
Straw for brains; but it could be worse. She’d be more embarrassed if I minced around in magic red stilettos. I haven’t done that in ages.
Brains back tomorrow I hope!
Have a good evening!