The Lost Weekend - For All.

I have lost everyone to alcohol this weekend. I feel like Ray Milland's wife in The Lost Weekend.
My chums have gone over to Belgium on a cultural expedition. Well, actually, they have gone over to Antwerp to buy a postcard and then load up with as much cheap booze as they can cram into their Help The Aged Sunshine Minibus.
They will not be back until Sunday evening and I doubt they will be in a position to manage even basic motor neurone actions let alone be up for a night out when they are finally spewed back onto the pavements of Small Town.
My soon-to-be ex-wife is not likely to be in the mood to keep me entertained either, I fear. She arrived home from work at 7 this evening, dumped her bags, and promptly did an about face to go back out to meet one of her friends. She said her friend was one of the Antwerp widows and so she was going to keep her company but would not be back late. Anyway, it is now midnight and I have just had a phonecall from the lady in question. She is, apparently, in a Chinese restaurant in town. I am a bit worried about her as she seems to have developed some kind of speech impediment. She was slurring her words very badly - I do hope she hasn't had a stroke! Mind you, what she does or doesn't stroke these days is no longer my concern.
Anyway, whatever the cause of her apparent disability, I doubt she will be fit for much for the rest of the weekend.
That leaves me and the dogs. I wonder if they will fancy a game of Scrabble tomorrow? Ho, hum. Looks like it's going to be a quiet weekend.
I think boring weekends can get lost. It's off to Grantham they go.