I woke up in Chester this morning. Charlotte invited me up to spend New Year’s Eve with her a few weeks ago and I thought it would make a nice change. I didn’t realise what she had in mind, but, Charlie being Charlie, last night I found myself at a New Year’s Eve burlesque night in a Chester church, complete with burlesque dancers, a gay choir and a magician seemingly capable of producing doves from nowhere. It was quite a way to see in 2019. The most surreal moment, though, was when Charlie and I were crowned joint burlesque queens of the night (not that I was wearing anything particularly queeny).
The prize, however, was a bottle of champagne, and I’m afraid to say that temptation grew too much and I had a bit. Two and a half years of sobriety ended last night. Oh well, I suppose I shouldn’t beat myself up: letting myself go once in a while rather than pressuring myself is probably healthy. Nonetheless I plan to head into the new year clear headed and looking toward the future.