Thursday, February 07, 2008

A kind of changing face of me type of post...

It.s 8.24pm on Thursday evening. My tumble drier is rattling in the background and I've just loaded the washing machine. I've just this second finished my dinner (a beef stew made my Mr. Allan) and I've put my jammies on.
I've cleansed all the make up and grime of the day off my face and I'm wearing house slippers. And I'm not ashamed to admit I love my house slippers. They are warm and cosy and soft and make me feel secure in a 31 year old kind of a way.
My son is getting ready for bed (yes, I know he should have been asleep along time ago) and I'll probably climb into my bed before 10pm.

Five years ago, Thursday nights were very different. I would finish my busy day at the cutting edge of journalism in Derry and put another paper to bed. (Yes, we really do use that expression.) Once we were off stone (yes, we use that one too) and there was no chance of anyone shouting "Stop the presses" (And sadly, no one has ever done that in my 10 year journalism career), myself and my colleague would nip into the bar beside work and crack open the wine.
We would sit, swear we were only having one, but have at least four. Most times we moved into a lovely wee bar in the city centre called 'Cosmopolitan' which was very Sex and the City and served wine in glasses, not those wee quarter bottles. They even served actual cosmopolitans and had the most amazing toilets known to men. (The walls in the cubicles had real marbles in them- which was a bit mad when you were pished).
Anyway, with no tea (because hardened hacks don't do food) we would end up sozzled and fall into a taxi. Unfortunately the taxi we would fall into would generally be from the same firm we used for work so we were often reminded of our misdemeanours the following morning.
Perhaps we would grab a pizza on the way home, or we would order our hubbies to go to the chipper while we fell in the door slurring but giggling and happy.
The hangovers were shite though.
It's weird to think how much our lives have changed in five years. It has been about 18 months since myself and this colleague last went to the bar together which is far too long given that it was a weekly occurrence.
Tonight, I feel very old.

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