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So I quit drinking after my stroke, even though the doctors told me I could take it up again (in moderation). Yet, that still didn’t stop me going down to my local watering hole (pub, the place where one can go to by a few alcoholic beverages and have a good time). As for ‘quitting’ I mean most of the time, you know, saved for special occasions and whatnot. Yet this is probably because of the hangovers you get. I hate hangovers with a passion. It’s the worst thing vomiting and feeling crappy all the next day.

So one night me and a few mates went down to the pub, I of course was not drinking. Which worked well for all my mates that were drinking and I could give them a lift home. Even if I didn’t want to, but I did, because Melbourne taxi drivers suck a big load of donkeys balls. They don’t stop to pick you up if you’re a male and not dressed in a suit after about 9PM. So I was looking like a bum, not because I am a bum, well, technically anyways. It’s just bums wear really comfortable clothes, and I live for comfort. Like you know those fingerless gloves you see hobo’s wearing, they not only warm your hands but leave your fingers free to do whatever. We’ll they suit me anyways, have you ever tried to use a touch screen computer or phone with gloves on? It is impossible, but not with hobo gloves. Warm hands and you can still use your phone/computer. Amazing right? I’m fairly sure there are other reasons for them, who knows? Yet all I know is they are the greatest things ever.

So this night at the pub, Clare Mane who I didn’t know at this stage but was friends with Kath Main (the person who I made reference to at the start of this book, saying [hopefully] that it would really piss her off if I was to write a book) came over to me, sat on my lap (very drunk I might add) and said something about ‘saving me’ or some crap. I can’t remember now, it was a long time ago now, and yes like I said, she was very drunk. So anyway, we started going out. Little did she know, I was already set in my way, completely unsaveable. Yet how was she to know at this stage.

So after a few months of going out with Clare; Kath and Sarah (another one of Kath’s mates) and the lovely Clare decided to move out of their respective parents home, and all shack up together under the same roof. Did I mention that at this stage in my life I didn’t like my mother too much at all? Well I didn’t. So I used all my muscles to also move out with them. Which was good, me and Clare were together and the rent was divided by four instead of three.

Looking back on it now, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Well, I still think that it was highly important. So I’m glad it happened, but for our relationship, it certainly wasn’t the smartest idea going round. Yet it worked for about a year and a half. So Clare was catholic, which I found quite funny being a ‘non-believer’. I think my hatred for religion was the cause for our breakup.

See you see it as my father did. Let me explain the situation, and I’ll explain my position later on. It’s a bit complicated. Anyways Clare often went to church, not every Sunday or whatever the day is that catholic people go to church, but fairly frequently. Easter, Christmas and stuff were the main times she visited church. I really wish she didn’t but she did, and I wouldn’t even try to stop her from going. However, she tried to get me to go, which my dad said I should have just gone with her.

However, my hatred of the church is well, let’s just say: there are only two things guaranteed in life, paying taxes, and KP’s hatred of the church. As I said, I’ll get into that later. So I naturally refused to go with her to church, because every person that walks thru the door is another number to add to the total number of people that attended church, and that makes the pope smile; and that is the last thing I want to do. My father said I was foolish, but I still believe that; even if it did take a huge chunk out of our relationship. I probably should have gone, for Clare who I loved. Yet, if only she could have seen beyond that, but she had her reasons I’m sure. So anyways we broke up.

Whilst I was going out with Clare, my ‘scientific’ side also got a jump start. I hadn’t really been into it all for a few years, because well, I wasn’t a scientist. But then something happened witch renewed my love for science. Well it really picked it up a gear anyways. I could probably relate it back to the internet being fast enough to download an episode of a documentary series in under ten minutes. I downloaded and started watching ‘The Universe’.

This was the start of my love for documentaries. That was only the start of my relationship with documentaries, and what an enjoyable relationship it would be. At first it was space documentaries. Learning about the solar system, how they found out all the information that they know. Like the speed of light (c) was first given an approximate value by studying the orbit of one of Jupiter’s moons and the distance earth was away from it. See keeping it simple for you artists. Whist not giving an exact answer, it got fairly close. Good job scientists. Much better than Galileo’s method, which was getting an assistant to turn on a light when he saw Galilo’s light turn on a mile away. Light moves a lot faster than that, his result said that the instant light left it arrived.

I really don’t know why I didn’t learn this as school, school is meant to be for your education. It is such a shame that school only taught me what the speed of light was, not how they figured it out. Real shame that. I hated school for previously unknown reasons. Turns out this was one of the main reasons.