After little bear had finally calmed down and started to sleep, darling father had forty winks and then decided he would like a little drinky.
He drank half a bottle of whiskey this afternoon, chatting about all sorts. He is great company, but I was watching the level of the whisky sink and feeling less and less comfortable. You see, as I don't drink much I am not used to the idea of drinking during the day, unless it is a special occasion. I don't have any objection, I just think it a little odd. And it was such a lot of whiskey - more than he drank for the England game.
He then went for a shower. What could I say - darling father, I think you need to be breathalysed first? I was sat rigid with tension listening to the shower and trying to hear if there was a thud.
He went to bed at 9pm, closely followed by dear heart.
I am a bit worried sometimes.
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