Friday night, I'm not out of work till 7pm, the moon in the black sky is not quite full. I'm avoiding the pub, I'm lying low. I haven't been out all month; I'm broke. The non-drinking is going well. I'm going to do 4 weeks, so the last night of non-drinking is tonight. I think I said I was going to give up chocolate which I haven't quite done, but who cares? that's a girl's new year's resolution anyway. I'm off to the doctor's tomorrow and although I have avoided googling my symptoms I've still worried myself into a stupour. It's bound to be fatal. As I walk up Finchley road I try and concentrate on other things, like, what on earth does the phrase, 'Raise high the roof beam, carpenters' mean?
I need to ask someone literary. I miss my chance. As I get off the tube at King's Cross I see Jeanette Winterson is sitting in the same carriage as me.
Saturday morning and I'm off to see the Doctor to talk about these headaches I've been getting for two weeks. Give up drinking for four weeks, and spend two of those with a headache. At Highbury Barn a pensioner drives out into the road nearly hitting an oncoming car. Two minutes down the road and a man is screaming at his dog. What have I woken up to? The Doctor is going to be rude, sneering, unsympathetic as he tells me my headaches are fatal...
The doctor is very nice and welcoming. He takes my blood pressure and shines a light into my eyes, asks a few questions, then tells me there's nothing to worry about. Outside the surgery the day is looking different. The sky is clear blue, the people are smiling, shop assistants are helpful. I walk through Highbury Fields, my headache forgotten. I love Saturday mornings. I still don't know what 'Raise high the roof beam, carpenters' alludes to though.
I'm off to the pub later to meet James and Shaun, the first drink of 2010. I'll raise a toast to J D Salinger.
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