I went out on my bike to deliver my Christmas Cards. I used magazines to make the envelopes. I went to Dunk's, Kate's, Pippa's, Clare's, Beaver House, Tall Trees, Old Lansdowne, Cally and Ali's, and Liz's. My bike started to get a flat back tyre as I was nearly home. I rode down Wilbraham Road between Kate's and Pippa's, and down Wilmslow Road between Pippa's and Clare's, and had got pretty close to some rather large vehicles, a skip lorry, a dustbin lorry and several 42 buses. I thought it would be more stressful than it turned out to be. To me as a pedestrian, a cyclist seems tiny next to these behemoths of the road, but as a cyclist I felt bigger and somehow better equipped to handle life as part of the traffic. Must buy a helmet!
Paul was gone when I got home. I boxed a few more things, CDs, extension cables, and built a pile by the door. Paul gave me a guitar and a playstation. He doesn't use them anymore, and I use them all the time. It makes sense I suppose. At around four pm, a massive sense of impending dread and doom swept over me. I'm really leaving Everett court. Fuck me. The evening was one of TV and red wine. Lots of red wine, actually. A half bottle from Thursday night. Another bottle bought with dinner, pizzas from Iffy's. As I watched Mastermind, I noticed that one of the contestants had chosen to specialise in Jonathan Creek, so I texted Rigby. And I got a reply! It said, "Ha ha, who is this?," thought when I identified myself there was nothing else. So it goes. There was and an ill-advised third bottle too, bought at 10.15, in the middle of QI, also from Iffy's. Fifteen regular size glasses of wine. Roughly. A haze. I don't remember how I got into bed.
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