Friday nights

The one thing I have noticed about being at home writing away is that my liver is a lot healthier. There once was a time when Friday nights meant the whole office would be checking the time wondering if 4pm was too early to crack open the beer, and as soon as it was home time you would be out, and in the nearest boozer. How times have changed…

See, Friday nights were traditionally the night you go for a drink with work colleagues, and then you would end up blearily calling your normal pals at around 10pm, roughly at that point when you realise that all your work colleagues are idiots and talk about work, of all things. Slurry conversations would take place shouted over the backdrop of loud pubs, as everyone tries to work out where to meet, since all of us worked from all over London. We'd finally get together around pub closing time in various degrees of sobriety, and roll into the nearest club we could find to dance like looneys.

But to tell the truth, times changed a good two years ago. We all gave up smoking, which was really the watershed for saying goodbye to bad behaviour and growing up at long last. And I don’t miss it a jot, as long as I don’t completely forget what the world is like out there while I am in here, tapping away on the keyboard. But I leave Friday nights now to the rest of you, safe in the knowledge that it is in good, slightly shaky hands.