No booze for three weeks now. Sorely tested in the week by the arrival of Kelly's ex-boyfriends mum, an unreconstructed Glaswegian hippy (she knew the Humblebums!)with still flaming red hair and a thoroughly old fashioned lust for life. By the time I had got home from work she had been entertaining her way through a bottle of brandy, snapped the g string on my guitar (hours of bawdy fun with that one!) and was attempting to download karaoke songs for me to sing with her. Within five minutes of arrival, before the steam had lifted from my glasses, I was duetting on "Hit me with your rhythm stick" with a drunken middle-aged woman I had never met before. The brandy was winking stickily at me throughout. Later, when I walked her to the station, arm in arm, she confided to me that she had always considered Kelly to be her "dream baby". It was a tearful farewell. And then I got chips.
The last third of the brandy is still in the cupboard. That's at least two stcky fingers.