Two more days to go, before I finish lent.
38 days ago, I gave up gambling. By hook or crook, I’ve managed to get within sight of the finish line. Two days to go. See, I envisioned this post to be me struggling to survive without putting a bet on, or any money in a fruit machine.
This is not the case.
I honest to god think I’ve kicked the habit.
The first couple of nights out were tricky, but it got easier, easier and easier. Even in work, when the sweepstakes for the National came around, it felt like the easiest thing in the world to say: “Sorry, I don’t Gamble.”. So, whilst those around me fell (Guy shaved off his beard when it reached ‘bumfluff’ stage - after three fucking weeks. I grew more hair on my chin in 1 day).
However, the ironic thing is that, whilst I’ve given up gambling, my friends still do. Therefore, even though I haven’t gambled, I haven’t achieved my goal: spending less time around fruit machines. I’m still cooked around them, just watching my mates play.
Still, it’s a start, and I suppose I have more money now than if I did gamble.
I’m back in Wales for easter, and - whilst feeling very lethargic (I haven’t stopped for 2 weeks with work, hence the quality of the blog posts have been crap. Sorry), I’m happy to be here. Last night I had a few quiet pints with Sibz in our local (who have again put prices up! A pint of Stella is £2.90! A whole £1 more expensive than my local in Liverpool. Daylight fucking robbery. Anybody - to make me feel better - know of any pub with more expensive premium lager?), tonight I’m going out, and Saturday I’m heading to Broadway for a proper night out, the first since my birthday.
I’ll probably get bored, and when I get bored in a nightclub, I usually gamble.
Am I allowed, at 12.01am, Easter Sunday?
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Rhys Wynne, the author of this blog, is a 20 something web designer from Colwyn Bay.
[...] See, Broadway Boulevard is like Marmite: you either love it or hate it. I’ll be honest, I hate the place. Once every six months is more than enough. The fact that the music is terrible, the fact that even the “cheesey” songs have a drum and bass line to it, the fact that - hell - Phil Collins’ shite “Against All Odds” has a drum and bass line added to it, the fact that it’s dropped it’s prices to £5.50 (though, incidentally, a pint of Stella is £2.60, a whole 30p cheaper than my local), but the main fact is something which bothers me. [...]