Margin For Error

Yesterday, on my way to work, I had to turn around and go back to get my keys, which meant that I was late getting to the train station (I usually get on the 7.50am), and which in turn meant that I couldn’t get my usual seat (back carriage, far right hand seat next to the long window).

That being the case I decided to wait for the 8.02, which meant that I was able to be the first person on the train and I could have my usual seat.

Now I realise that this sounds both slightly odd and incredibly boring, but I tell you this for a reason.

Those twelve minutes between my usual train and the 8.02 made a huge difference to the entire scope of my journey. The train itself was more crowded, Liverpool Street was far busier than I’m normally used to. There were School children around and far more people on the street walking to work. Which is to say that everything was brighter and more awake.

And all of this just because of a measly difference of 12 minutes. And this (of course) got me thinking about the pub. Because that last pint (or indeed that last half pint) can so often have that kind of disproportionate effect. That last pint can be the difference between waking up with a banging hangover, or getting up late for work. It can be the difference between suffering all day or falling over in the gutter.

Just that last pint.

And as much as you try you almost always come down on the wrong side of the line. Just that one more.

[Of course this goes to my last post about Saturdays. Saturdays have no such line. Saturdays don’t have just one last pint. They have two large Jack Daniels and coke, a desperado and three Jagerbombs for the road.]

Which is why a few pints after work can sometimes be a dangerous thing. It’s a difficult balance to find – and one that everyone has to find for themselves – quite often based on an analysis of what they have to get done the next day measured against what kind of hangover they feel they can tolerate/endure. But also based on more nebulous things like how much of the crossword is left to be done and just, frankly, by how much fun they’re having.

Or if Gareth is going to come back from a gig just as I was deciding whether to have just one last pint or not.

On such fine margins does the regular exist.