I told you I was ill

I’ve been locked up in the horrible, horrible Woolwich nut-house; things were just getting too fraught. Obviously, this means no tasting notes until I get out. Many apologies.

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Davy

I am a terribly charming loony who has finally found that severe PTSD, Generalised Anxiety Disorder and chronic psychosis is, on one of my all too rare good days, only a moderate impediment to having crazy fun with wine and food. Catch me outside and I am liable to be loudly attired.

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