Am comfortably drunk. Weird day: they wanted us back in the office for one day for the new CEO to announce some bullshit. 1.30pm onwards was a pub sesh. Ended up on a table with woman from accounts (59) and her son (early 30s) and she started throwing back Pinots. Son said he needed to head home at 5pm, so could we please walk his mum back to Charing X and see she got on the train? Sounded like overkill to me but OK, no hassle - getting the Northern Line anyway.
8pm: co-worker and me are holding her hands on each side, slowly guiding her down some steps and WHUMP – she plunges forward, hits the pavement, fag ricocheting from her gob and sparking upwards. Ended up phoning her son to order her an Uber, after half an hour of propping her up on the street– too fucked up to get on a train unaided. What a state! Once we’d packed her off, I said to my co-worker, fancy one for the road? and he said “No, my fiance’ll kill me if I don’t get back, she’s made me sausages”
Drinking a Guinness now and listening to the first PiL album and wondering why I can’t just meet normal people.