Bacon and Hope.

There are a few events that signal to me a solid reason to get shitfaced. Christmas is one. Australia Day is another.

And then there is Election Night.

We went to an election night party where the booze was free flowing and the company lovely. As I was not speaking to Mr Woog due to the way that he voted, I was left to drink wine on the couch while social intercourse swirled around me.

The whole scene was completely dangerous to my sobriety and as the night went on, and the election results were called, I drank a bottle of my beloved Villa Maria all by myself, like some desperate wino.

And I paid for it today in spades.

But it is what it is. The people have spoken and the people were pissed off. I get it. I adore democracy. I am just a mad supporter of public education in Australia and if they dare cut even one cent of funding to special needs programs, I will let myself off the chain.

But it is a fresh start. It remains to be seen whether that is a good thing or not. 

I was invited to give my view on the election results  over at The Hoopla. I wrote it in 4 seconds this morning while eating a bacon sandwich and sculling a full strength coke. I think you can tell, reading it back. It is not likely to be awarded any literary accolades.

You can click here to read it. 

In other news, just back from the Rugby Presentation, where Horatio was awarded a trophy for being the Best Forward. And of course I cried. I cried because I was so bloody proud of him, and I was also extraordinarily exhausted, both physically and mentally.

The team presented me with a Rubber Duck and a Gift Certificate for excellence in managerial duties. Again with the tears, and 16 little boy hugs.

Has this been the longest weekend in the world?
And when it comes to bacon rolls, are you a BBQ sauce bird, like me?
And thanks bastard hangover. 
I will see you again on Boxing Day.