Whoopee, sometimes I’m happier not drinking
How almost interesting to read that many folk make up excuses not to drink when out with friends.
According to research by yon Medical Research Council, citizens aged between 35 and 50 prefer drinking indoors, where they can make a fool of themselves with impunity, unlike with their friends, who treat them with punity when they’re out and about frequenting ale houses.
Excuses include driving and, if female, dieting. It’s great not drinking when you’re out because you can drive home. But there’s no doubt the evening can be a trial.
I did all right at a recent do, until there was an interlude in proceedings for some presentations. This signalled something I have always found disturbing: whooping. I was never extrovert enough to indulge in this, even when pie-eyed. Some citizens whoop on a whim. Some, it has to be said, whoop feebly, feeling obliged to whoop, but lacking the chutzpah to do so.
To whoop or not to whoop, ’tis a difficult call to make.
With sinister logic, the whooping at the do alluded to above was followed by an outbreak of dancing, and I slithered out, grateful for the peace, quiet and order of my Ford Focus, Reginald. In days gone by, I’d have got home and had another nightcap. Now I just lie awake, feeling vaguely wrong.