You've Gone All Yellow

I am a kind and caring friend. When people need my help I only occasionally pretend to be on my wayto do something important. If asked to go out for a drink with someone I don't like, I tend to say I have no money, in order to avoid hurting their feelings. No one could accuse me of being unnecessarily mean to someone I didn't think deserved it.

Today Sonia called when I got home, and asked me if I'd like to go to Curler's with her friends for a beer and a burger. I like Sonia, but Curler's is not my favourite place, and I don't know if I like all of her friends. It seems that tonight I have no money.

She persisted, and asked me to come for a cup of tea and flapjack. I like both of these things, even better when they're free and combined with the kind of excessively juicy gossip only Sonia provides me with. I arrived. Late.

Since I am a good friend, I was forced to tell Sonia that she was turning the wrong colour, and that it was possibly due to becoming an alcoholic. I was sensitive and thoughtful, I sung her a song about turning yellow written by the amateur transplants, she enjoyed the song but pointed out that I was exaggerating (which turned out to be true when we left the room with the yellow-ish lighting). She also said that she'd barely drink at all over Christmas, as she'd be home with her family.

I hope that I have a friend good enough to make sure that I drink over Christmas, however, I am not nearly good enough to think that visiting Poland in midwinter to help someone get tipsy is worth it. I shall persevere, and buy her a drink when we're both back in Glasgow. It's what friends are for.