Tuesday 7 November 1989

Tonight, we went out for a drink.  I didn’t have much.

Innocent words, but probably worth taking notice off as the usual thing was to go out and get absolutely bladdered.  I put this down to a number of things, not least, and you need to bear with me here, the exuberance of youth.  You might well ask, “why not do something constructive to utilise this exuberance?”  Well, that’s where football came in.

No, drinking offered me a vital commodity, one know as Dutch courage. Again, you might have a question, “what would a young nineteen-, almost twenty-year-old need by way of Dutch courage?”  Especially one with a slew of O Levels and a clutch of A Levels.  Well, in a nutshell, it’s that ‘c’ word, confidence.

But I obviously didn’t need much tonight, hence the comment in my diary.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.