Last night I took the tube from work to Petra’s gaff in West London. On arrival I was served wine and we chatted as she prepared an enormous pile of Italian food. IC arrived, then Mark and finally Mary and we four happily gorged ourselves on octopus, spiced prawns, scallops, squid, tomato, bread and lashings of wine. We topped the whole lot off with Limoncello and before you know it, I was stuffed and pissed. What a splendid way to spend an evening I decided on the cab home, what a bloody stupid thing to do I surmised when I woke this morning.
I have a hangover. I’m getting increasingly less used to these as I’ve been abstaining of late, I’ve also come to realise that I’m more aware of the consequences of getting pissed with regard to the morning after. But only when I’m not drinking. Monday and Tuesday for example, as I indulged in my sobriety, I was actively looking forward to a following morning of freshness despite being bored out my skull. Last night I couldn’t have cared less if I’d woken to find England under the rule of screaming French horses.
A short one today, in addition to my malaise I’m up to my cods in work. There’s nothing doing here at the moment so I’m required to actively generate business, which is awfully tiresome. To make up for my lackadaisical frame of mind here’s some stuff that will probably amuse. Now fuck off.
