In 1986, my mother went in to my high school for parent-teacher interviews. She met with my science teacher, Mr. Collins, who greeted her and remarked “ah, Darren, the boy with a Coke in his hand”.
I don’t drink alcohol, coffee or tea. I don’t do drugs, eat red meat or put other potentially nasty things in my body. I am, however, serious smitten with Coke. It is one of my few vices.
It’s time to grow up and accept that drinking a can of Coke a day isn’t particularly healthy. For the month of February, I’m not going to drink any soft drinks. Cold turkey. The whole enchilada.
The last half-can sits beside my keyboard, waiting to be savoured. If I or my posts turn grumpy and incoherent, it’s because I’m coming down. Forgive me. More updates as events warrant.