So I turned 26 on Saturday, well and truely past the quarter century. Despite being slightly pissed off at how shit I threw in the afternoon, it was quickly forgotten and got home in time to have a good night out. Now I need to get my arse in gear for the British Open, I feel plenty better even since Saturday so lets hope this is the end of a long dark tunnel I’ve been in.
Just for Andy, who thinks my poems are crap, this one’s for you.
Tomato ketchup stain on the van’s interior.
We don’t need photos to remember.
They would only make us feel inferior.
At the site of our beleaguered demeanour.
Chat to a girl or two.
Try to dance with a few.
Exchange names then go,
to let booze continue to flow.