Taking the edge off

When I got home, Jen was out.

Mostly, I'm happy enough when she's at her yoga class - feet up, ready-meal curry, watch something on the telly, couple of beers. No chat, just a bit of slobbing around. She chills out her way, I chill out mine.

Tonight I was more glad than ever to have the place to myself. The day had gone pretty well - a whole lot better than I'd expected, in fact - but I still felt the need to spend some time on my own.

I wasn't hungry in the slightest, but I really needed a beer.

Wandering around the flat after dumping my bag, I checked the answering machine and turned on the computer to have a look at my emails. No messages - unless you counted the emails offering cheap medication, a longer penis or the opportunity to pocket a million dollars in return for my bank details.

I headed for the fridge, where I knew I'd find some ice-cold lagers. Popping the top off a bottle, I drained it in three swallows, belched, and opened another. I'm not really much of a drinker, but the cold, sharp gassiness of it was fantastic - as was the almost instant feeling of relaxed well-being.

Heading for the sitting room, I turned the TV on and started clicking through the channels. Finding nothing that really grabbed me, I settled on one of the news programmes. To be honest, I mostly catch up on news during the day on the web - but there's something about watching events on TV that makes it real, somehow. Well, for me, anyway.

Today in Afghanistan...

The news was mainly background noise really: I wasn't taking much in. My thoughts were on the day's events - everything I'd said to my colleagues had been true... but there is such a thing as lying by omission. The truth, the whole truth, and all that... I raised the bottle to my lips and was surprised to find it empty. Bloody hell! Thirsty boy.

I went to get myself another, and came back to a report on alternative energy sources.

In ten years' time...

Ah, it's always ten years away, I thought. I took another swig of beer, and burped again. Better slow down after this one,

And finally, today at the Tate Modern...

The beer, it seemed, was combining with the tension of the day to make me feel suddenly weary. Putting down the bottle, I closed my eyes just to rest them for a moment. My eyelids felt unbelievably heavy. They flicked open again after a short time, shut once more, flickered and then stayed shut.



Story begins here.