My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been three months, 12 days and nine hours since my last drink.
About to head off to Aintree for the second day of the Grand National.
I just can't wait for that unmistakable thundering sound and the flash of colourful silk as the magnificent beasts loom into view - their eyes ablaze and their mighty thighs straining with the effort of keeping pace. Some are slight and nimble, others created for power. But they all have one aim: to win the cheers of the baying mob, and to ensure they finish up with an ecstatic little man on top of them.
That's right. It's Ladies' Day.
I have never braved the Friday or Saturday Aintree crowds without a fortifying drink inside me. Particularly on Ladies' Day, when the sight of acres of goosepimpled flesh requires either a calming tonic (if you're lucky) or - more probably - several gallons of booze to wash away the memory of 16-stone Sandra from Speke oozing out of her Liz Hurley-style safety pin dress. Except she couldn't find safety pins big enough, so had to use a few heavy duty bicycle locks to hold the flimsy fabric in place.
Officially I'm working, so getting rolling drunk was never an option.
However, Aintree is hard to beat on a sunny day, with a winning ticket in your pocket and a pint in hand. Today will be a tough test.
Will I make it through the day without a drink? Don't bet on it.
Not because I think I'll fail. I don't. I just mean you should bet on the horses, instead. It's much more exciting.
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