So it may be 2am, but it is still Friday. And as I sit here, in a non-descript hotel room, listening to noisy Italians outside seemingly socialising not in the comfort of a room, but the vestibule of a corridor, I have an epiphany of sorts.
It’s not like me to have these moments of wonder, these visions of clarity that redefine purpose and ambition or understanding. But perhaps I just have. In a horribly sad and destructive way.
And as I lay here, in my new-found misery and discomfort, I realise just one thing…
I will never ever share my epiphany.
I don’t actually drink Jack Daniels, despite the image. Just saying, still have taste.