How To Deal with Resentments - 10 Easy Steps

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Mans Retreat 2013 - 4 men & a static caravan

I survived the 2nd annual mans retreat. This is my rather dubious account.

History

This was the 2nd Annual Man Retreat  & in all honesty a well earned break for the married ones. What goes on Man Retreat Stays on Man retreat, though in truth sod all really happens, which is just the way the married men want it.

Firstly we need to define what is Mans Retreat? Well at the age of 40 my mates and I are roughly 5 years away from the mid life crisis. Also my pals are now married with young children so their lives are very different than before. They have little in the way of time to read Exchange & Mart on the shitter let alone spend time with their mates. This is the whole concept of mans retreat. To reconnect with other men and read Exchange & Mart on the khazi.

A wider issue is that modern men are losing their identity in the world. Years ago our role was defined yet now it is changing. We are effectively becoming pussy whipped, metro sexual man is taking over. Small beards, exfoliation cream & men that sing like girls on X Factor . Where have all the real men gone? It is a time to go back to the roots, be with other men and generally do fuck all for 2 days in your pants. It follows the same basic code of all other forms of retreat. To reconnect with your core values through the medium of grunts and silences in a hairy, smelly environment. It is not for the faint hearted or hairless.

The ideal place to reconnect is in a confined space. Here a Static caravan is the ideal environment to get back in touch with your masculinity. 12 square foot of beige lined peaceful bliss without a screaming child, nappy, wife or fellow man to please. Man Retreat encourages total freedom, abandon and Scotch Egg crumbs. Leave your Gucci loafers at home boys. Big pants and cardigans are all that is required.

 

To add to the Mike Leigh gritty realism, it has to be in a British seaside town out of season and it has to be personal to one of the members. Men who now have families and kids need to reconnect with their childhood too.

Last year it was Pembrokshire, as I spent lots of time there as a kid. This year it was Brean Sands as one of the members submitted a eulogy to the memories he had as a kid of the 'turd brown sand and romantic views of Barry Island by night. There was only one winner.

So the caravan was booked (3 bedrooms), the party was expanded by one (on trial for the weekend), & we were off to Home Farm Caravan park, Burnham On Sea. A bonus was that it was adults weekend (slightly worried it's an X large suburban swinging retreat) and Roger Decorsey was starring in the club house on Saturday. I'm pretty sure he was only booked as he's the only 70's performer not arrested on Operation Yewtree. It was all set. We were ready. 1 highly sensitive recovering alcoholic (me), a depressive, an anxiety sufferer and a sport addict. Bring it on!! It is where we reconnect as men in 12 square meters of unbridled beige. The healing power of the Static

Friday 15th November - Day 1

The day of the road trip. When you think of a road trip it conjures romantic images of Jack Kerouac On the Road, Alan Ginsberg, the beat poets, Thelma & Louise and endless adventure. We're off to a static caravan in Somerset. Pick the adventure out of that. Fear and loathing in Wookey Hole.

We were to meet at 12pm. I immediately fucked it by scheduling a business meeting and interview. I ended up 90 minutes late. This immediately pissed everyone off. Luckily my post on Facebook in the morning about the married boys being pussy whipped deflected their resentment away from me being late to me being antagonistic towards their partners. This was not a good start. Not only was I Relegated to the back seat of a child locked car rendering me cock less but within 5 minutes I was ganged up by 3 married men for calling them pussy whipped. Not a great start by me.

Married blokes with kids have an unspoken affinity, identification and connection. They have shared experience of marriage, kids and responsibility. Whereas me, a 41 year old commitment-phobe who has never been married, kids, mortgage avoiding any kind of responsibility instead dedicating his life to hedonistic selfish pursuits, did not.

 

The team was clearly unbalanced and in need of someone in the Makele role. (female readers will have no idea of that Football reference - it's basically the Football equivalent of a marriage guidance counsellor or in other words Tramadol)

Finally we got to Man number 4's gaff in Marlow at 3pm after heavy traffic and a slight hint of niggly banter in the air.

At this point we decided to attempt some continuity from the 1st Man Retreat when we got to his house & commented on his kitchen sofa (every one's so middle class in Marlow they have sofa's in their kitchen) last year he worried that it was too small & expensive. We agreed, making his Kitchen area look like a non league football bench. Repetition is a key factor in Man Retreat. I said repetition is a key factor in Mans Retreat etc..

The second point of Man's interest was the newly laid decking. It looked like he'd had half his garden decked. It reminded me of a P&O ferry. I had a moment of clarity. Realising we had indeed reached middle age when we all sat and admired the workmanship. Clearly a man has reached a stage in his life when he discusses decking. It's Impressive & horrifying in equal measures.

A quick group shot was taken with the intention of recording the Man Club Retreat members but all it ended up doing was making us look like four faded members of a 90's Boy Band'. Recreating hits like 'Special Brew', 'I'm getting decking in the morning' and 'where did it all go wrong'. We were ready to roll. (All be it in the middle lane at a safe consistent speed of 70 miles an hour)

The drive

The drive is a key ingredient in the bonding process. Conversation must flag after the initial burst of adrenaline until you all sit in slightly bored silence. This is occasionally broken with random comments about driving skill. One reversing manoeuvre got exceptional respect with a textbook 'arm across the backseat' move. Men were suitably impressed at this forearm action. Solid, dynamic, bold and confident. Nobody likes a nervous driver on Man Retreat. The driver has 3 eagle eyes watching his every move and the pressure is on. Sebastian Vettel would shit himself with such man pressure but our driver confidently munched his way through several scotch eggs, demolished 4 cans of diet coke and kept a stern glare throughout. Not only that but he kept one hand on the gear stick throughout, ready for any quick rally like gear change and on occasions even rested his right arm on the arm rest with his forearm out the window cradling the roof. Textbook stuff.

.

Arrival

The sense of anticipation and sheer relief that you can stretch your creaking 40 year old limbs is electric. You remember when you were a kid going to the seaside on holiday and how excited you got? Well you don't get any of that on Mans Retreat. You're far too jaded and cynical for that silly joyful stuff. Instead you're more excited by stretching your sciatica than the location, however we managed to muster up some modicum of interest when we arrived at the spectacular Home Farm Caravan Park at 6pm.

We were greeted with an odd sprawling mass of towed and static caravans with a huge club house, indoor pool and slight whiff of decay and depression. Think the farm in Dallas meets council estate and you get the picture. It was the Perfect Man Retreat Location. The brochure described rolling fields and wide open spaces. Whereas all that was rolling was tobacco outside the bar and the wide open spaces were clearly the shelves in the barren onsite shop.

Luckily The Static was an upgrade on last year's Tide Rio. This was pure luxury. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and a small balcony ( steps to the door) - The interior was a a world of beige. Like stepping into a carpet advert from the 70's. Perfect.

 

The men unpacked & discovered we had 2 towels, 1 small toothpaste and a charger between us. Ray Mears we were not. Clearly we had left it up to each other thinking, 'he's bound to bring.it.' Girls would never ever leave something to chance and it just highlighted how shit us men are at preparation and packing. A rucksack with Lynx, Socks, pants, fleece and Exchange & Mart would suffice.

The strict itinerary allowed us 2 hours of downtime. There were literally tens of things you could do at this Caravan of Fun Park. Either stay in or go to the clubhouse. There was only one winner. Pool at the over large, decaying and empty clubhouse. The ultimate 'winner stays on' male bonding activity. Now the club house was essentially a large darts hall, with 500 seats, long tables, a huge bar and café serving nothing but 'everything and chips'. Thus was Bullseye territory. Not a skinny Machiato in sight.

We aimlessly played pool, the 2 drinkers got stuck into the pints whilst the recovery boys chomped nuts and downed diet coke. The England match came on TV and we were away, Pool and footie, no conversation. Men in comfortable sports induced silence. Perfect.

After it was time for a Man feed. The only thing to eat when you hit the British seaside is of course a dirty Curry. So off we popped to Burnham on Sea, a rather strange small place that only the extremely poor or clinically insane would choose to go on holiday (can't work out which ones we were). The men bonded over Lamb Bhuna and Kingfishers. The recovering alkie tried to drink vicariously through the other two by ordering them pints, brandies and chasers. Old habits die hard. Going for a curry was a bit of a risk. 4 lads, strong curry and a 12 square foot caravan. There would be no escape. The propensity for wind damage huge, A Philippines style storm could well be brewing. Still it's good to take risks on Man Retreat,

The boys got back to the Static at around 11pm, the drinkers went to the club house for last orders whilst the other 2 reclined in their pants at late night movies. Of course this is one thing man Retreat insists on. A shit movie to kick off the weekend.

 

Then we indulged in a 5 hour conversation/debate that turned into an outright argument about several topics most of us cheerfully displayed maximum confidence in knowing about but very little true knowledge. I was the biggest exponent as I passionately argued my case and got more frustrated as I became increasingly irrelevant, tenuous and obtuse.

Still there was no going back now and thus I slipped into what most men will be familiar with. Male pride. Arguing your point long after you know what you were talking about. Your mouth is moving but your brain is saying, 'shut the fuck up'. Your make pride and ego are well in control by now preventing you from backing down and admitting your were talking shit. It also persuaded me the 3 Dads were ganging up on me feeding my sense of persecution even more thus rendering me even more aggressive with my points. At several stages my finger even came out. never a good sign. 

 

My Ego  pursued this pointless charade until 5am, and even when nobody had any will left, it still wanted more. My stupid male pride has no off button when in control of me and it was thirsty. The boy's eyes were shutting and the birds were singing. A textbook exhibition of male pride. The result? Total misery and a teenage strop. Perfect male behavioural patterns I and we know oh so well boys.

The only thing you should be doing at 5am is drugs, sleeping or a milk round. Certainly not arguing about the commercialisation of the mass media as a reason for how the truth isn't exposed and people are idiots for believing what is peddled. My ego thought I knew what I was talking even if nobody else or my true self did.

I'm not going to lie it was an exhausting and intense start to Mans Retreat. A static caravan is no place to indulge in a heavy moral and sociological debate. We should have stuck to 'who's a paedo'. I soon realised at 2am I should shut my mouth but my male egoic pride kept me going until 5am. And I'm supposed to be the one with a 12 step programme!!

 

Day 2 - Sat 16th November

Mans Retreat Saturday

Mans retreat Saturday is the guts of the retreat. The engine room. It has to start off with a lie in. (for the married boys) Especially in your cramped caravan bed with your legs hanging over the end. The night must be interrupted by intermittent waking up due to hypothermia in the freezing conditions. Double socks are a must.

A lie in is essential for fathers on Mans retreat. It is a rare treat and one to be savoured. Not having young children climbing all over you at 6.30am is essential to reclaim your masculinity and get some kip in.  

Training Regime

 

Exercise is important on Mans Retreat. To keep physically fit helps to balance the undoubted eating of shit throughout the weekend. The Married ones with children opt for lie in over a run 9 times out of 10. Married mens training regime is essentially horizontal sleep. I personally opted for a run to the beach, taking in the gorgeous turd brown coast and endless boarded up houses. This place hasn't come out of recession since 1984. I passed 3 mobility scooters, 1 van with BJ's on the side and 2 piles of sick. Welcome to Brean Sands! Now fuck off...

 

The run enabled me to feed my huge resentment at the 3 other boys and contemplate leaving. Such was my intense insanity. I soon calmed down. Had a big pray up on the beach, had a stern word with myself for being such a knob and headed back to hunt and gather provisions for the boys breakfast.  

  

Breakfast

 

Mans retreat only allows fried food. Museli contravenes several rules and results in being suspended. Man is encouraged to go out into the wild (well the local Tesco Express on the way back from my run) and hunt, gather and forage his own food, (put them on his credit card). Eggs, Bacon, Sausage, black pudding & toast the staple ingredients. Man must then cook his own breakfast, reclaiming his Independence in unhealthy fried cooking and then sit in a cramped kitchenette squeezing himself into the caravan's 'social zone' to eat at a table and get yolk over his beard.  Endless tea is drunk eschewing all modern advice to hydrate with water. Mans retreat encourages you to get into double figures by midday.

 

A natural order falls into place. I hunted and gathered the food whilst one of the other men cooked it, another washed up and the 4th member did fuck all. Men working in unison performing team work, albeit for 4 minutes. The bonding had been re-established.  

 

Itinerary

 

It is crucial for Mans Retreat not to have any plans or itinerary throughout the day. The day must include essentially nothing. Pressures and responsibilities of every day life mean that Mans Retreat provides a healing balance to this by asking you to do absolutely nothing apart form drift along the day. Mans retreat encourages sitting around in the cramped caravan after breakfast in your pants, reading papers until one or all of you starts getting on each others tits & annoyed. It is THEN time to go out. Mind you this probably happened last night though of course the other rule of Mans Retreat, Never say how you feel, the truth or express any emotions. Simply repress it and continue to nurture a secret deep rooted resentment for around 40 years.

 

Nature & Reconnect with Childhood

 

Mans Retreat encourages Man to visit places he went in childhood to reconnect with being a youngster and recall positive memories from the past. One of the members visited Brean Sands from the age of 3-15, so it was like a spiritual home coming for him. A special moment was the look of horror on his face though when he realised 'It's more of a shit hole than I remember'. Life always seems so much better when you're a kid, and now as a jaded, tired cynical grown up man it's good to get back in touch with those pure emotions of joy, excitement and fun. It's a chance to stare out to sea, observe the golden coast of Barry Island and say 'who Am I?' 'What am I doing here?' and 'What time is the pub open?"

 

 

 

 

Having said that the fresh air, long drawn out tides, howling wind, turd brown sand and stench of piss as you walked up the alley to get to the beach meant you were filled with their own memories of childhood, waves of nostalgia and nostrils full of stale urine. It was time to leave. Pub

 

 

Afternoon

 

This is simple. Pub. Pints. Sport. Rugby, Football. Pub Quiz. No frills. It does exactly what it says on the tin. No messing. No chat. Simple drinking, sport and trivia knowledge. Classic Manly Pub activity. Not a kids club, Ikea, Home furnishing or shopping centre in sight. Bliss!

 

Diet

 

Diet is crucial on mans retreat. Fruit and vegetables are banned. The average meal must include at least 99% Carbs and heavy saturated fat. Man Retreat rejects nutritionists advice on fresh vegetables, white lean meats and pulses. The only pulse allowed on Man retreat is his own after a heavy afternoon in the pub. Man Retreat doesn't follow Paleo, Atkins, IM, Blood or any other form of diet. The only diet allowed on Man Retreat is the Fat Cunt diet. Cookbook to be published later.

 

This means the only Saturday evening meal of choice is fish and chips. Plus an optional battered sausage and bread roll. This is the ultimate #CarbWank. Where you are effectively putting carb on carb on carb on carb. The only green thing allowed on Mans Retreat is mushy peas or bogie's. It makes no difference they look the same anyway.

 

 

This is of course bolstered by post dinner Scampi fries, bacon fries, Dime Bars, snickers, nuts and crisps. This makes staying in a small confined caravan for a number of hours extremely volatile and smelly. Men's Retreat encourages breaking wind as a means of men letting it all out. It is one of the ethos of Mans retreat. Not to hold anything back and relax. So much so there is often a severe danger of man shitting himself mid gust. One of the members suffered a scare during 'You've Been Framed' luckily it was a false alarm. Only some light skids.

 

Evening

 

The evening is a tricky choice. The natural inclination is to lay around in your pants watching sport, movies & occasionally breaking wind. Luckily Saturday night was entertainment night in the Caravan Park clubhouse, so there was only 1 place to go. I haven't felt that excited about a night out since

 

We arrived at 8.30pm and the place was packed. Rows of tables and heavily tattooed men (and women) dressed to the nines in leisure slacks and comfortable shoes. To be fair some of the women had made an effort, though I'm not sure if they were in fancy dress or not. All the women looked like cleaners and the men like Sunday league football managers. It was an odd mix.

 

The bar was doing a roaring trade, the café churning out chips by the kilo. This was not a place for Gillian Keith.

 

We settled at the pool table (naturally) and resumed our 'winner stays on' bonding exercise. The rugby was playing loudly in the corner and the Northern Mc (why are they always Northern) started the bingo. Yes it really did happen. It is mandatory on a Caravan park to have Bingo. Near enough everyone of the 500 strong crowd played for the top jackpot prize of £60. Gripping stuff.

 

After what seemed like 23 days, they brought on the warm up act for Roger Decorsey. It was by now proper cabaret and they brought the musical turn on. Lady GaGa tribute, complete with silver bikini & glasses. I'm pretty sure she had a meat dress on but it was made from strips of Turkey Ham and Offal from Lidel. Classy it was not.

 

We then introduced a healing factor into Man Retreat. The Fear challenge. The equivalent of walking across hot coals and fire you get to do in self development retreats. It's all about curbing your fear and persuading yourself you can do anything. So what was the Man Retreat equivalent?

 

Dancing of course. Not just any dancing. Sober dancing. Terrifying for the real man who requires at least 8 pints of strong lager just to remove the 20 foot neon flashing 'Twat' sign above his head as he throws down his shapes. The men were challenged to conquer their fears and take to the empty dance floor in front of 500 people and dance sober solo to the Ga Ga tribute. This would help them break free of their fear. Loosen the chains of suppression and allow the Men to tackle life with a new found energy and open mindedness. When asked if they fancied taking this challenge they all replied in unison, "fuck off" and carried on playing pool. Quite ironic really as you give a man strong lager and you can't drag him off the fucking thing. Maybe next year. 

 

To be fair to Ga Ga she could sing and she roused the crowd from their carb loaded slumber. It was at this point the night got weird. " blokes from Wales bounced into the room dressed as gigantic inflatable penises. They danced with Lady Ga Ga whilst slopping their pints everywhere.

 

I looked on at this scene and thought. I've taken every drug there is known to man. I've tripped my face off on strong LSD for days on end. I've drunk my own body weight in hard liqueur, I've attended 12 step meetings for years. I've seen every weird sight known to man, but never ever have I seen a darts crowd rocking to Lady Ga Ga, dressed in Bernard Mathews Turkey Ham, with 2 giant cocks dancing in front of her waiting for Roger Decorsey & Nookie Bear. It was a special moment. One you have to freeze frame and appreciate. This may never happen again in my life.

 

Of course, the boys played on at Pool as if they saw this everyday. I on the other hand couldn't resist;

 

 

Insert joke here (...........)

 

 

 After we settled down from the excitement, Ga Ga did her best to rouse the bored crowd and we took our spaces at the bar to watch the star turn. Roger Decoursey and Nookie Bear. The last time we saw him was on CrackerJack in the 70's and he wasn't funny then. We had high hopes for his blue adults act and clearly everyone was excited to see him.

 

He came on to resounding indifference and proceeded to bomb. He chucked everything at the crowd including some gentle racism and homophobia. It was only when he got Nookie Bear out the crowd went wild and he was on track. I checked to see if Man Retreat were enjoying it but their faces gave it away;

 

 

 Sometimes Men's faces just hide the truth. I bet inside they were pissing themselves. We left 2 minutes after this pic was taken 20 minutes into the act. Any further exposure to this could well have set off suicidal thoughts within the group. Not the aim of Man Retreat.

 

We left to go back to the van where we watched back to back Man films (not the mucky ones you maybe thinking. Nobody likes a jizz soaked Static) and whilst 2 of the members peeled off to bed early (1am) me and another member got into a rather deep discussion.

 

Luckily it wasn't on the scale of the previous evening however we did start to talk about God, spirituality and Higher Power's. A little deep for Man Retreat and a Static caravan. Still it was a fine attempt at informed discussion regularly interrupted by loud trumps of wind. Something you don't see on Question Time. Full marks to us though for carrying on in such adversity.

 

The discussion ended at 3am and we hit the hay. (not together) for a Carb induced kip. It was A long Saturday and thrillingly I didn't annoy, piss or upset anyone off today. Luckily my ego was under control. For now.

 

Sunday 17th November.

 

By now everyone was sick of the sight of each other. 48 hours living on top of each other in a cramped confined space had taken it's toll. Of course the heavy carbs, fried food, lack of sleep, several bottles of Red & feeling of decay within the Park played it's part. It was time to leave.

 

The non pussy whipped married boys had their families to get back to. Me? Well I had a hot date with my girlfriend. Man, how she coped for 2 days without my incessant moaning, annoyance and pretend dancing to crap techno lord only knows.

 

Roll on next year. Who knows we may even push the boat out to a cottage in somewhere even more exotic like Hull. One can only dream.

 

Keep Manning Up Men and look out for a Man Retreat near you. It's genuinely thrilling

 

Nicholas E Evans

xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVANS GOES HERBAL - Giving Up Caffeine Is Harder than it Looks - The Friday Blog

Did we all survive Halloween? Is the car and house still standing from trick or treaters?  I loved it as a kid, dressing up, knocking on people's doors. Getting 20p was the holy grail back then, though you usually ended up with manky old penny sweets. Of course for the miserable sods who didn't give you anything a turd through the letter box or a flat tyre was fair game. Now as an adult I really appreciate how much of a nightmare such childish behaviour is. It takes months to eradicate turd stains and smells from the hall carpet. I played it safe & avoided any undue damage to my property by dressing up in a gold lama tracksuit, white wig, big cigar and opened the door by saying 'howzaboutthatthen guys and gals'. Slightly wrong but it did the trick. I am turd free this morning.

It's always been a big deal Halloween, especially for kids. However now the full commercial sales might has taken off it's everywhere. It seems that time is shortening because we are bombarded by advertising messages promoting the next 'big occasion'. We've just been through Halloween, now it is full steam ahead Christmas. Then it will be Valentines Day, Easter, Mothers Day etc. It's almost like the big brands are encouraging us to forget the now & have our mind on the next occasion. It's exhausting. Still I must be grateful for a turd free hallway this morning even if I did receive several complaints from my neighbours for my Fancy dress attire last night.

This is my new Friday slot for my blog. My weekly round up. I will spare you the dull bits this week (There have been many I assure you), but the headline news is that I've given up caffeine. Yep, this little 5 bottles of diet coke & 14 cups of tea-a-day merchant has been caffeine free for 3 days.

Now for a man who has been brought up by Welsh women who insist on drinking at least 4 litres of tea a day it's been quite a big deal. Tea is the fulcrum of this country. Think of any national crisis and it's always 'I'll put the kettle on'. And I'm not talking about that herbal shit either. Nor even the fresh loose leaf style or even poncy vastly overpriced silky Tea-pigs. No, I'm talking old school builders tea. So strong that you could stand your spoon up in it. Drop of milk, 2 sugars. Lovely.

I have been used to guzzling multiple cups a day. Wake up. Cup of tea and a smoke. Tea on the way to work. Tea at my desk. Tea at home, tea after dinner, tea, tea, tea. Since getting sober my tea drinking took on astronomical grounds. I swear to god I smelt of Teltley. I love it. Can't get enough. If you then double up with multiple bottles of diet coke & the occasional red bull then Bingo you're on a roll.

Trouble is of course, the occasional day like this is OK, but doing it day in, day out for 12 years takes it's toll. You can't sleep. You are constantly knackered, so what do you do to get by, you load up on even more caffeine. Insane. it's like the blind leading the blind. But you know what is really insane? I never took Pro Plus or other stimulants as I was of course sober & in recovery and considered that 'using' artificial stimulants. That's proper insane. Totally fooling myself and justifying that my behaviour was Ok because I wasn't popping pills. That's like someone smoking Skunk but not counting it as a drug because it's not Heroin. Madness.

The fact that I was pouring more stimulants into my system than the Jamaican sprint team didn't enter into my head. I was fooling myself that much. So why did I stop this week?

Well other than getting very little sleep for 12 years, huge dark circles under my eyes like Frankenstein, chronic fatigue, dry mouth, feeling constantly hung over, trouble concentrating, irritability, intolerance, negative thinking, rotting teeth & body breaking down no reason really.

How can caffeine do all that? Well I guess in moderation like everything else it is fine. But since when have I ever done moderation? I know how to spell it, it's just doing it I find tricky. If I like something and it feels good then I want as much as I can possibly ingest. Plus of course as humans we fall into repetitive habits. The thought to have something comes and I have it. Constantly. This is where habitual human behaviour meets addictive personality. The result? Well the above list will do for a start.

No it's not Heroin, crack or any of the headline drugs. No I am not over dramatizing this. It's only fucking tea after all for Christs sake Nicholas!!! But trust me addictions can take on many forms, each having their own damage. I still have loads more in my locker I'm not ready to let go of yet.

So this week I've been downing decaf tea (I know, I know it's like non alcoholic lager and a waste of time but I'm doing this in stages OK?) & I've got on the herbal shit. Peppermint & Chamomile.

I  have officially turned into one of those wankers I hated in my early sobriety. And you know what I love it! It's inevitable. I mean, my Egoic me is bound to hate anyone who is healthy, happy and successful because my it doesn't want me to do that.

So for years I've lived in it (and still do a lot) merrily drink 20 cups of sweetener laced tea, smoking 40 fags a day and keep myself feeling shite. Well no more Ego. You can fuck off. I'm on the Peppermint & chamomile. Mmm raspberry & elderflower infusion. Bring it on. Green Leaf Mint Japanese Herbal Garden..You fucking bet. I'll have a pint. I'm a herbal mother fucker now Ego. Tetley's will be fucked. Their profits will fall at least 12% a week as The Evans goes herbal.

The big test of course will come when entering an old school café. I'm not sure the order of "Full English breakfast with grilled tomato, poached free range egg, wheat free toast & a cup of elderflower & thyme infusion tea please luv", will be met with enthusiasm. Still I will build up to that.

However the ultimate will come when I go back to Wales to see Aunt Gwynie. Turning down tea in Llanelli is not only considered rude, unsacred and shocking. I actually think it's illegal too. Unless you've drunk 14 litres of weak tea until your bladder is bursting you've not been sociable. I dread to think the look on her face when I ask for Jasmine infused Green Tea. I actually think it may finish her off. My grandfather Idwell Isaac Evans will be turning in his tea stained Grave at the thought of that one. Mind you I think he died from a burst bladder so fair does.

So after 12 years of massively loading up my system on legal stimulants and abusing my body I've been in absolute bits this week. Withdrawals symptoms have included tiredness, headache, thirsty. back pain, aching legs, depression. All from fucking tea and diet coke!!!!!!!! Holy shit I dread to think what giving up smoking will be like, That may tip me over the edge.

Anyway, have a tip top caffeine, lactose, dairy, wheat, sugar free weekend if indeed you can have any fun without any of that. Still for all you non addicts out there there's always wine, whiskey, sex and song. I'll just stick to the sex and song me thinks. Followed of course by a herbal.

Nicholas E Evans