Febfast (aka month of torture) has begun

I am sincerely beginning to question why I decided to embark on this whole non-drinking journey. I am repeating 'Doin' it for the kids' over and over in my head like a crazed, Robbie Williams inspired mantra. For some reason, the image of Corey Delaney keeps popping into my mind; I cling to the hope that the recipients of the drug and alcohol programs I am raising money for are not nearly so aggravatingly smug. Not very charitable, I know. "You're a nice teenager, so you can have my money, whereas you are a git and clearly don't deserve any help".

I put my attitude down to the fact that Febfast has begun and I am feeling its effects; the thought of it hovers around like a nasty puritan waiting to catch me in a sinful act. I am not planning to outline my teetotal experience in great detail here, but if you're interested in a daily update (or would like to donate money for this worthy cause) visit my irritatingly tweely named "Hero Page".

Wish me luck, folks.

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