Despite it being St David’s Day, the start of March, daffodil yellow everywhere, golden trumpets heralding the imminence of Spring, etc etc etc, outside it was a relentlessly grey Friday, at the tail end of a holiday. Such gloom contrasting with the promise of renewal is always bound to provoke some sentiments of resentment. Today was fully Bunyanesque in its sequence of testing moods.

Didn’t want to do anything, nothing I did was enough, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything but churn.

It was the first time since I kicked this off that I have felt boring and self-negating for not wanting to have a drink. Thinking about giving over the Project Straight nonsense and just having a beer. Properly imagining what sort, how many would be allowed, etc.

Attempting to distract myself and feel useful, I went out for fish n chips, and to the shop to get wine for the missus. Setting up the opportunity, the feelings died down a bit, oddly enough, and I had no inclination to act on the earlier thoughts – well, none that I couldn’t ignore til I got out of the shop. Although I then managed to break a wine glass when I got home, fumbling it out of the cupboard in a tediously unmetaphorical, actually having to clear up a fucked wine glass, manner.

*rolls eyes*

What with all this crushing internal churn, confusion, self-doubt and loathing, what better occasion for the football team to pull a glorious 4-0 win out of the bag, scoring the first after 16 seconds, by gad? None, I say, none more better.

Morale back up to double figures and climbing by full time, at least.