The cup that cheers? No, too much boozing makes for a bore
The woman's face was vaguely familiar to me as she hove into sight among the party's throng. "Ooh…..darling! Kiss, kiss, hug, hug!" she slurred. Oh dear: so early in the evening and she's already drunk. I'll never get a word of sense out of her, I thought.
The 12 days of Christmas have sometimes been described as one long boozing session and that's just what I dislike about socialising at this time of the year. The inevitable piss artists. The glazed eyes and slurred voices: the inability to grasp a clear thought, and the conversation which consists of inane repetitions. What a drag they are, these drunks!
Then I pause to tell myself: "Don't be intolerant. Don't be a prig! Remember, you were just like one of those drunks once." That, perhaps, is part of the problem: in seeing loss of coherence, rationality, and dignity of the inebriate, I'm looking at a picture of my earlier self, which repels me.