Feck me. Two weeks after allegedly giving up drinking, which meant one day of not drinking, then a few days of cider, then half-bottles of vodka, now tonight four-fifths of the way through a full bottle of vodka (whoops, just heard a chink of ice cubes hitting glass, make that nine tenths), she reckons she's getting up in the morning to go to a funeral. In the unlikely event of this happening, stay off the roads around #Sawtell. More likely she'll pass out somewhere in or around the house in a few hours, come to sporting some beguiling new bruises, and sleep all day before taking the dog for an afternoon walk to the off-license. I'm done.