Tickle Me Quick

Last week someone, who shall remain anonymous, came to me with a problem. It was quite out of character. And it was quite out of the blue. A shocking self-discovery that took myself and this someone, who shall remain anonymous, rather by surprise.

As problems go, it wasn’t catastrophic. There was no narcotic addiction, there was no other man, there were no gambling debts. Thank Goodness, there was no terminal illness, no manic depression, no mid-life crisis. In fact, this particular problem was less a problem and more a stark observation. And as with a common cold or a niggling cough, the problem was actually uncomplicated. Easily self-remedied, given half the chance. But by its very simplistic nature, it was all the more startling.

A little bit of what you fancy

Recently I have become partial to a glass (or two) of wine. Not white, not red, but somewhere in the middle, chilled to a desired degree and of a specific vine. Now those of you who know me well, will agree that this is an astounding achievement. Nigh on teetotal, the “cheap date” cliche has forever been my most well-received party trick.  However, with nagging nerves and stress levels hitting unprecedented highs, it was clear that something had to be called in. Something stronger than an insipid camomile tea or a gallon of Rescue Remedy. And with the glistening bottle in easy reach (plus more mellow, fruity vibes chilling in reserve), it’s no wonder the last few weeks have born witness to a remarkable transformation in me.

A little bit of what you fancy can’t hurt, right?