i don't hate.

i don't hate people. i don't hate governments or politicians. in don't hate circumstances. i don't hate ideas. i don't hate thoughts and hopes.

i do however, hate poor manners and judgement.

simon said to me weeks and weeks ago his friend and his gf would be coming to vist for a weekend and that was great. i settled up my desire to display everything i own with the prospect of having a need to store and hide things; so i made new shelves and put things in boxes etc and made room for the air bed simon bought (with my sheets, blankets, duvet and coverlet and heater and clock and tv and light in the spare room).
so they arrived yesterday while i was watching my neice play netball for her school, but by the time i arrived home at approx 3-00pm, they'd only had 2 or 3 beers each. so we drank and talked and got an insight towards each other. excellent.
i had not planned on going out for beers into town with them, but they asked so i got my drinking trousers on and we headed into town at just after 6-30pm.
apparantly, i am difficult to follow if the gap betwen me and them is more than 2 metres as they had difficulty in following me in to bar after exiting the taxi.
one round (paid for by me) and the next bar was calling. i made the almost fatal mistake of using my legs and feet to actually walk at a pace faster than a decomposing donkey so combined with the visual impairment that 3 metres distance and simple instructions (follow me down this straight road for 15 metres) makes, we finally got to our second bar, where they only get three drinks, leaving me to get my own.
now by this time i noticed they were all terribly horribly drunk, so i suggest we go outside and sit down by the fire on the couch and no fall over the tables and annoy other patrons. so they followed me and my advice. untill i was abused for trying to ruin their night by not letting them punch a random stranger.
i decided to go home at this stage (8-10pm), giving them instructions as to where the next five bars were (6 metres down the alley) and where the nearest taxis were (4 metres in the opposite direction from the bars).

so i go home, safe in the knowledge that i have 3 or 4 hours to calm my nerves and relax. ohhhh noooo.
how foolish am i? very foolish. 22 minutes after i get home, they all arrive and inquiries assertain that they were refused service due to their level of intoxication.
fine. we‘ve all been drunk before. but i’ve never started fighting in my own house. nor have i crashed into glass shelves breaking them and gashing (not cutting) my arm wid eopen leaving inspection to even the blindest of morons to know that at least four stitches are required to close the wound. but hey ho, apparantly, i'm an overbearing c*nt who thinks that taking someone you care for to the accident and emergency department at the local hospital is a fu*king waste of time and other phrases worthy of a sailor.
so i wash my hands (literally) and go to bed. alone. leaving them to die in their own vomit (hopefully).
saturday left me alone, going to rugby and losing our second to last match of the round. the club however gave me plenty of chances to recharge my mojo and drink some flaming sambuccas as well as a few beers.
home at 10-30 pm and no one is to be seen or found, so i'm going to go to bed and have a nice sleep. also alone.