The weary traveller returns...

Ah, sweet alcohol how I must have subconsciously missed you. Being on the fast track to hell definitely has it's redeeming qualities. To my amazement, I didn't hear Satan cackling away in the distance either as I sipped on my firewater.

Yes, you got it guys and dolls, I am currently nursing a broken tailbone after my monumental fall off the wagon. Let me relay the tale...

I went away for this marvellous Merchant's Holiday weekend with Sylvia and her sprog. The weekend got off to a magical start as the baby only cried for five hours out of the six hour drive. We were going to join her family in their house "just outside Akureyri", and in Akureyri incidentally there was a big festival going on. So all in all, with her family standing by to watch the baby, we could have a pretty good time.

As it turns out, the only family present were mostly her grandfather and his siblings and we were actually a half hour's drive from the festival. We did drive into town and spend the afternoon there, but as there was no one to leave the baby with at night while we could go have fun we were stuck in baby jail. Which is fine for her, but I have nobly kept my legs closed as we know and have done nothing to deserve the sentence.

On Saturday night the cluster of summerhouses in the area had a barbeque, and fairly early on in the evening Sylvia starts to tell me how we need to get back to the house soon because the baby needed to go to bed.

And thus ended two years of sobriety.

The idea of being forced to turn in at a baby's bedtime was more than I could handle. So I went and bought some beer and got drunk with some old men there, which was the highlight of my trip. And actually there is a lot to be said for having a "few" beers and getting a "little" legless in the country with people with whom you would normally never hang out with and singing old Beatles songs. And I don't even mean that sarcastically, it was fun.

And more importantly, it was justified. Jesus himself would have dropped acid to alleviate the boredom I was going through that night, I'm fairly certain of it.

So a rather boring and uneventful weekend managed to spurr two life changing epiphanies which all in all isn't an entirely disappointing result.

One was that rules were meant to be broken, and even God himself would do a keg stand if pushed too far.

The second was that, barring insanity, I am not having children till I am at least 53 years old.