My Birthday

It's my birthday today, I'm 34 - how depressing. It's time to face the fact that my chances of playing for Liverpool are almost nil, so it's Plan B instead - Boy Band. I'll spend the day interviewing and meeting with marketing consultancies in HK - ROCK AND ROLL. Please don't send me cards or emails, just money. [I've just re-read this and it reads like I'm interviewing marketing consultancies for my Boy-Band ambitions, which is just ridiculous. They've been in place for ages]

Before I moved out here, I had this recurring nightmare that my cleaner would iron creases in my sleeves and that because of the language difficulties (ie I cut off her tongue in a jealous rage, that'll teach you for working for other gweilos) I wouldn't be able to explain to her that that wasn't what I wanted and would you please stop and be forced to spend the rest of my life with creases on my shirt sleeves (and yes, that includes the cuffs). A couple of days ago my cleaner started and I'm happy to report there's no creases on my sleeves. Just in case you were wondering.

The last time I had a drink was Saturday night. That's four consecutive nights without a drink, which shouldn't be a lot but given my lifestyle actually is - I probably haven't gone 4 nights without a drink for 6 months. Thing is, I haven't slept well at all for about the same time, 4 days. Am I having withdrawal symptoms, am I an alcoholic? My friend Jim would say 'yes', but then his answer to all of my questions is 'yes, you're an alcoholic', which is nice.