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There’s something missing from this picture…

There’s something missing from this picture…

Picture

The flaming wreckage is over the hill behind the ponies…
     My  friend Val says I look like an Air Hostess in this photograph.  I was visiting her in England recently – it was the first time in my adult life I had seen England without the benefit of booze.  I was sober as Stonehenge, people.  She took me to Dartmoor for a brisk walk and a pub lunch. 

    Why did I dress like this to stomp over mountains of icy heather and dried pony poop?  I look so official and quaffed with my navy-blue blazer and jack boots… Like I’m available to answer questions, or gather tourists together to expound on points of local interest.

    But, I also look dejected.  Like I’m the only survivor of the plane crash (burning out of sight) and I just don’t have the energy to BE STRONG and DEAL with it all.  As if I’d rather just stand there – having a stare-down with a feral, Dartmoor pony…

     That’s kind of how I feel. 

      My ex-husband quit smoking, cold turkey, many years ago.  He said that after he did, he was disinterested in drinking beer, or going to restaurants or parties, because without a cigarette, nothing felt right.  It felt like something was missing.  Val and I went on to a charming, country pub after our walk.  One of those low ceilinged affairs with a wood burning fireplace and horse irons hanging on the walls: the perfect setting to while away the hours with a Plowman’s Lunch and a glass of red wine.

     But, without the familiar glass(s) of wine, it felt like the pub lacked something.  Although I love Val’s company, and I was in ENGLAND for Christ’s sake, it was just food.  In a charming setting.  On a cold day.  

    

Today I’m not drinking because:  I don’t bloody know.  Remind me – WHY am I not drinking?  There’s something missing

How come you’re not drinking?

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