Tag: <span>Southern Comfort</span>

I remember, many many years ago, having a chat with a guy I was at school with whilst he walked down the road, swigging from a bottle of red wine. At the time I was solely a beer drinker (with the odd Southern Comfort which is entirely down to Stephen King, yes I was very impressionable at a young age) so I asked him why the hell was he, a 17 18 year old, drinking what I thought was something reserved for the older members of society? Did he actually enjoy the taste?

He, drunkenly, admitted it was more because he liked to challenge the ‘norms’ of society, that he wouldn’t be swayed by peer pressure nor be told what to do. Looking back it was obviously mostly teenage rebellion, but hey it looked really cool! Did I mention that I was impressionable at a young age?

Recently, I’ve found myself thinking once more on the pressures that society can push on us, the unwritten rules we all seem to learn and the presumptions that so many of us make day after day. I’m as guilty of those as the next person, of allowing my conditioned responses to take over but that’s slowly changing and some recent events have brought this to the fore.

As most of you know, Kirsty and I are in an open relationship. In short (for there are many differing terms and definitions for our form of relationship*), we are open to the idea that there may be other people who could be part of our lives (and that could be in a variety of forms) and we are being honest and up front with our thoughts and emotions as we figure out how to be in this new and somewhat alien circumstance. It’s still all very new, and not that easy at times, but if it doesn’t work out we will know why and there won’t be any resentment, just two people happy to be monogamous.

What we’ve realised recently is that what we’d thought in the past were certain irrational thoughts, spiralling up from our own insecurities and fears (the very things which caused both of us to have some dark times in the past) are actually more likely to be, in essence, false guilt. Society teaches us that monogamy is the ‘right’ thing, so even being out on a date with someone else is ‘bad’ even if your partner is aware of it.

I guess it’s only natural that, after spending all of our lives with one set of rules that we’d be struggling at times to learn the new ones. However, we are learning that there are fewer rules than we’d thought and the main two are applicable to monogamy as much as polyamory; honesty and communication. It’s not easy being completely honest, both in saying “this will be really hard for me, but I’m ok with that” and in hearing it and trusting the other person in their honesty.

So, society be damned. Do your own thing, be respectful, honest and thoughtful as you go and never mind the naysayers and their negativity. Be happy.



* One thing that irks me, and it happens in many different places, across many different social situations, is the need for some people to apply labels. Human beings are complex creatures, no one is the same and we all have a huge range of things that carve and sculpt the way we think.

Personal Musings

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Is Red Bull the Marmite of my generation?

Although strictly speaking, Marmite is the Marmite of our generation but bear with me here…

Red Bull, that sickly sweet, caffeinated drink, the one that gives you WINNGGSSS, seems to be increasingly popular. Particularly when mixed with vodka. Standing at the bar the other night instead of vodka and coke, the tipple of choice for the 30-somethings of the evening appeared to be, almost exclusively vodka and red bull.

As an aside, why is the alcoholic part of a mixed drink always first? You don’t order a Tonic and Gin, do you? Hmmmm.

Where was I? Ohh yes, Red Bull.

Six cans of Red Bull (no vodka) got me through an overnight drive to Torquay a few years ago, and more recently several glasses of Red Bull (with vodka) got me through a night out into the wee small hours of dawn and whilst I’m not sure that it helps, or whether it’s more my ability to handle vodka instead of my usual post-beer tipple (Southern Comfort), I certainly wasn’t suffering as much as I thought I would be (and that includes several tequilas).

That said, it does seem to be a love/hate kinda thing.

So, if Red Bull gives you wings, where would you fly to?

12 tapas,
4 bottles of red wine,
2 jogs along the beach,
3 books (The Tipping Point, The Liar, A Short History of Tractors…),
1.5 litres of Southern Comfort,
247 photos taken (50 or so that are any good)
12 litres of Mahou,
2 days of full sun,
4 warm but cloudy days,
1 delicious Argentinian fillet steak,
2 witches (it was Halloween when we arrived),
1 skint knee (not mine),
1 full moon,
1 power cut,
and 632 emails waiting for me this morning.

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A brief post to wish my father a Happy 60th Birthday.


We are out for a family dinner tonight, then a wee celebration tomorrow afternoon. Posting largely depends on inclination and quantities of Southern Comfort (which my sister said she’d buy! Hope you remembered Jen!).


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Louise is home and annoyingly tanned, but I can put up with that.

Her plane finally touched down in the wee small hours of this morning after a three hour delay and as it was a further hour or so before we got to sleep I decided to work at home today. Still, it’s good having her home, absence certainly has the rumoured effect on the heart.

She brought me back a nice big litre bottle of Southern Comfort, which cost her all of about £11, and should get me through the World Cup.. just..

And aside from that there’s not much else to say.

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There is nothing better than lying, slightly bedraggled and hungover, on the couch all day watching crap TV and classic movies like Clash of the Titans. I’d forgotten just how spectacularly bad the latter was, although to be fair to the actors it can’t have been easy to work with that dialogue. Fantastically awful, I could barely take my eyes off the screen.

Louise was out for the day (and most of the night it turned out) so I had complete autonomy. I ate nothing but toast, drank a mixture of diluting pear and blackcurrant and then fresh orange and mango juices … um… not mixed together I hasten to add, and enjoyed a lovely little tube of dipped strawberry pieces from kchocolat, chocolate therapy indeed.

Thankfully my boxers remained both on my person and out of sight for the night, and whilst I do sincerely thank you all for your suggestions I failed to drink anything but Southern Comfort (half a bottle there of plus a couple of ‘hotel measures’), Stella (only one pint but it’s STILL going to get the blame for my sore head), red wine (two glasses), tequila (one slammer) and … well that was quite enough.

Dancing was had, boobs were fondled (with permission! honestly!!), footrubs were administered (three of), a shoulder was used (for drunken rambling) and a nipple was bitten (still smarts a little). In other words it was a fairly standard Christmas company party. Bloody good fun it was too (here’s some proof).

And the comedy incident of the night, for me at least, was when we finally vacated one of the rooms at 3 am (and sincerest apologies to the women who I startled in the corridor as she stuck her head out of the door to see what the noise was.. I don’t THINK she was completely naked…). Everyone pilled into one of the lifts and rather than add my bulk to the experience I hung back to get another one. The doors closed and I’m left alone in the corridor, watching for the number to change so I can push the button to summon another lift. The number doesn’t move, and I can still hear the drunken bums I work with..

“Push the fuckin button!”
“I DID… didn’t I?”
“Where the fuck are the buttons?”
“Whoa… it’s moving..”
“No… that was just D jumping up and down..”

And so on for about 5 minutes.

Plans today to go to the cinema, but as yet we are bother just trying to summon the energy to tidy the house. In fact I can hear the dulcet tones of my beloved echoing up the stairs as I type… better turn this music… up.


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My first ever drink in a pub (the same pub I celebrated my 18th birthday in after drinking there for about a year…) was a pint of “heavy” (80 shilling) and that remained my tipple of choice for many years, bar the occasional Newcastle Brown or a lager on warmer days. Ohh and for the record my first ever alcoholic drink was vodka. Straight. Whilst providing cloakroom services for a Boys Brigade dance. Sorry Mum.

Why heavy? Because I was nervous, naive, and I wasn’t really sure what to ask for, so when the bloke that got served before me ordered “two pints a heavy” I thought, yeah, that’ll do me!

As Guinness started it’s rise to prominence I switched my allegiance, although I’m just as likely to be found drinking an American ‘beer’ like Miller these days. Carlsberg is pretty nice, and… well I could go on but that’s not what I wanted to ask about.

If I’m not drinking beer, or occasionally wine, I drink Southern Comfort. Either straight (over ice of course!) or with lemonade, it’s one of the few spirits I drink. I will accept a Gin and Tonic, and have been known to drink the odd tequila and lime but I just can’t find a spirit that I enjoy as much as Southern Comfort.

Whisky I can’t stomach, nor will my body accept any aniseed flavoured drinks (Ouzo, Pernod etc etc), I can drink vodka if I have to but don’t really enjoy it (although I am looking forward to the bottle of Absolut Raspberry we have recently purchased for consumption over the festive period). As most bars have a fairly wide selection of booze these days, I’m asking for suggestions. What drink should I try?

Some guidelines. NO COCKTAILS! I want something I can order in pretty much any bar from a spit-n-sawdust establishment to a neon-glow style bar (ummm is neon back in??). Definitely no whisky or any of it’s derivatives like Jack Daniels, I’ve tried various rums and never really took to them, and I’d prefer something that will take a variety of mixers, lemonade, coke, and so on. Ohh and it must be alcoholic.

I know for a fact that some of you imbibe the occasional alcoholic beverage so have at it!

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It’s 1am. Been drinking since 3pm.

Quite drunk, shouldn’t be posting, don’t care. 50% proof Southern Comfort is lovely but does make the room spin!!

bed now, up at 8.30am.

Hangover city, here we come!!

(Holy crap, I’m not too bad at tpying when I’m drunnk!!)

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