The mob, plus mates have sugared off to a, well, a dunno quite what it is, a pub come eatery thingy for steaks and wotnot to celebrate a couple of birthdays. One assumes that includes what passes for beer nowadays.
It was assumed I was going too, then I pointed out that when I went out to a local working men's club for a friends birthday do, more of the buffet ended up around my chair than down the hatch.
Like a lot of strokies, I look mostly normal, but my co-ordination is quite frankly, crap. My face isn't always where my hand thinks it is. Stuffing a chip in your right ear isn't socially acceptable, pint glasses are designed for people with gobs the size of Shrek, (no offence dear reader) and most food and beer spends a lot of time being mopped off my crutch with napkins.
It isn't very edifying having ones zipper and mouth corners dabbed frequently with napkins by nearby caring ladies, or having someone cutting one's steak into pieces I'm not going to choke on. Then I dribble a little at times too.
The net result was always concerned staff, thinking I'm rather bladdered, whisper gently 'do you think someone should take him home?'. Bless. Don't get me wrong. I'm waaaay past embarrassment. It's the pure practicalities of it. I had that discussion this morning. Again. "But it's their birthdays....".
Well yeh. Make me feel guilty. It's inadvertent prejudice by those who should know better. And it's also a conundrum for them. But not for me. The practicalities of day to day living take precedence. Even for birthday celebrations.
I'm deeply saddened I couldn't go though.
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You know what? In a while, I'm going to rebel. I'm going to a local shop on my own. This should be very interesting. I've not been "allowed" for some considerable time.......
Wish me luck.
Wish me luck.
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