A good weekend

This weekend was a good weekend. It lasted about 3 years, much longer than the usual 2 days. It was quietly great. I didn't even realise it at the time, while it was happening, but as I sit here now, and think about it, it was dead nice.

In a wholesome way. I have been off booze since the start of the year. I did the same last year. It's good, you feel better. There is absolutely no reason for doing it, other than it can be done. Anyway, I said I'd do it, so I did and am. I will drink again on 24th February (you have been warned, Montreal!). Only joking. I'm not a violent alcoholic.

I resisted a lot of temptation to booze last night- at our friend Mario's on Saturday, he had tonnes of lovely drink on offer. His da makes his own wine, it's fucking lovely. I didn't have any. He had about 300 bottles of whiskey too, and I didn't touch a drop. I am a virtuous cunt. It will make it all the more delicious when I return to them.

He made lovely dinner, many delicious things. He is a great cook. He is a cunt. Not really. He is a great human being, and I love him. His parents are Italian.

On Friday, I went out for a friend's birthday, to a pub downtown. I again wasn't drinking, but it was still good. Everyone else was blocked. I can walk to town, it's class. So close, so very near. I love where I live, there is a big park nearby that offers all sorts of shite to do. You can eat picnics there in the summer, and drink to your heart's content, as long as you have food with you. If you don't, the police will knock your fuck in, shoot you and steal your drink. So be careful, al fresco drinkers.

I went for a run there today, three times round the park. Fucking killed me. I didn't eat anything all day before. I am a cretin, sometimes.

Tina's ma and da came to look after wee Sarah, and we went out for a meal, to a lovely French bistro. I had steak tartare, my favourite dish. I demolished the fucking thing. Again, with a look of saintly piety, I turned my head from the wine menu like a statue of St Martin de Porres, and fixed my gaze on the slowly falling snow outside. I had a diet pepsi. Would have loved a fucking glass of wine though. But such is life and such are the irrational, yet ultimately rewarding decisions I sometimes make.

We ate and enjoyed ourselves, and the snow outside was so pretty in the night. I feel myself a truly lucky young bucko. Head of the world-famous NCWC, in a fine city in a good country, with a wonderful family and friends around me, both here and at home. I met head-on the temptation to break my solemn pledge, and told him to fuck off. I ran round the park three times in the bitter cold. I had lovely food. I read a good book. I carried my daughter around the house looking at interesting objects together.

I had a good weekend. If you don't believe me, just look at the picture at the top.