Welcome to the Thursday share shed of questions and confessions. The bit of the week where I'll

fling open the doors of sober awkward and let everything tumble out. If you've got a cringy moment

that still pops up uninvited at 3am. This is your chance to offload it.

Let's get it off your chest and stop these tumultuous tales lurking like the drunken ghosts

of your pissed up past. You can email your stories to vick at soberaawquad.com. Anonymous is

encouraged, oversharing is very welcome and judgment is most certainly banned.

So if you've ever worn a traffic cone on your head, had a weird one-night stand,

fallen asleep in a bush, puked in a bin, and yes, had the occasional running with the police,

or you just need to ask me a question about booze, then you're in the right place.

I believe nothing says growth like finally airing a bit of dirty laundry.

Let's evict those embarrassing memories once and for all.

Kettle on, share shed open, let's get a little bit awkward.

Right, here I am in my adorable little share shed, also known as Freddy's bedroom.

And I'm sorry, I'm going to apologise for the noise in the background.

It's a very rainy day and my husband has decided to do a bit of hoovering,

which he likes to do very occasionally,

and he does it in a sort of smug way where it makes me feel bad about my hoovering.

He even gets out that funny little nozzle that no one's used for 10 years so he can get

behind the microwave and down the side of the couches. It's very annoying, but I'm going to let him

get on with it. Never stop somebody hoovering.

That's my advice, even if they are doing it in a bit of a wanky way. Sorry, poor John. We love you,

really. Okay, so since last week, our message from James, who bought the bar in Cambodia in a

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