I’m sat drinking a rare single malt. It’s not my fault.

I fucked up OctSober at the first fence.

We all went out for my Mum’s 65th birthday and I was getting uber-stressed. Basically I have been ever since quitting alcohol and sugar. In order to make it through the Family Gathering I had a glass of wine… Which quickly became several, and have ended up with me sat here at home reflecting on my day while sipping a glass of (what would smell like some kind of) medicine (to the uninitiated single malt consumer)

Laphroaig. Hogshead. 9 years.

I’ll put another post up soon – not that I’m a “booze-and-violence” apologist, but I feel this goes a little deeper than surface indication.

Like: why do my brother and father not drink?

What is this fatal brew?


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