On September 21st the pubs will re-open. A substantial meal will no longer be a requirement and the 105-minute limit is set to be scrapped - in certain circumstances.
Although I’m happy for publicans, for me this announcement has brought some sadness. I gotten quite relaxed about Charlotte showing up the odd time.
It’s always a mystery when Charlotte is going to appear. Charlotte is obviously my drunk alter ego- We all know a Charlotte. She seems sweet but she’s actually a shit stirring tramp who will ruin her 11 year relationship for a 25 year old bar man called Ste with Aqua marine eyes.
(Here’s a horrendous picture of me from a newspaper article a few years ago)
So that's why she has to be kept inside under strict supervision. Charlotte tends to favour white wine drinking at speed. Just like Cinderella, once the clock strikes 12 Charlotte needs to get the fuck out of there before things start to go to the shits. And don’t get me wrong she is great craic but she really is better if she has a couch to fall asleep on by 11.30pm.
I’ll still soldier on and do the odd bit of drinking at home but Charlotte isn’t allowed out anymore. Not since she got us barred from the Workman’s and left the kettle in a taxi.
Pubs are great and everything but you can’t disappear for 45 mins, come back wearing your dressing gown, blaring East 17 on your phone all set to burn some microwave popcorn followed by some ballroom dancing with the dog.
To be honest Charlotte was brought out of retirement purely for lockdown so going forward she may just have to do some consultancy work for special occasions like weddings and funerals. But Charlotte needs someone now who is willing to give her a good time and show her the sights of the city. I forgive Charlotte for losing phones and reigniting 3 year old arguments at 2am but like the great Lauren Conrad- Charlotte, I want to forgive you and I want to forget you.