My hippy flatmate Christian is installing a new kitchen cabinet. He asked me to help so i am stuck in the flat when i’d rather be out walking in the park; i’m also really hungry but can’t cook because the kitchen is full of drills and nails and planks of wood. Every now and then he asks me to hold the cabinet as he marks points on the wall or drills holes or mutters in German. i decided the only way to deal with this was to get drunk so i have broached a new bottle of very cheap white wine and also broken in my new elk cup:

i am reminded of my first day in my basement flat in Leeds in 2004 – i had bought a huge bookcase from Ikea and Bonehead came over to help put it together. At first i attempted to assist but after about 30 seconds, he gave me one of his disgusted looks and said: “I think it’s best if you just stand back and drink your whiskey.” So i drank Jameson’s and watched him assemble the parts, which seemed a natural and just division of labour. i can usually figure out how to assemble things – indeed, i’m even quite good at it – but i inspire fear and concern throughout the operation, as i tend to mutter “fuck, what’s that?” and “oh Jesus i don’t know what i’m doing…” and so on, as an aid to concentration.