Shot this from my office window a while back. Can't remember why it's taken me so long to post it . . . but there you go.
Friday was, predictably, a bit grim but I managed to put a very good face on it. Which begs the question - when you're really pissed off with someone is it better to maintain your poker face so they never know or let them what they so richly deserve . . . given that neither reaction will change reality one iota.
Spent the rest of the weekend getting unfeasibly, unbelieveably shit faced. Had 6/7 pinits of strong lager on Saturday afternoon watching the rubbish rugby and then went to Rowan's in Finsbury Park for some all night bowling. It all starts to get very hazy, probably somewhere around pint number 11 or 12 . . . can remember meeting some funny Ukranians called Egon & Igor, but after that it all starts to get a bit patchy. Think Els had to walk me home . . . also have the distinct impression that I might have done some crying on her shoulder . . . urk.
Have a very vague memory of falling arse over tit attempting to bowl at some point. You may be wondering why I didn't get chucked out, but honestly that sort of idiocy is pretty much expected at Rowan's. To be entirely frank it's not an enormously classy establishment ;-)
Suffice it to say that yesterday was just awful. Honestly about 6 o'clock I thought the game was up and death was finally going to claim me. And I didn't much care just either. The best thing that can be said about such a mind melting, gut strangling, paranoic, dizzying, sweating, shivering, hyperventilating, DTs-tastic hangover is that at least you have something to think about other than 'Les affaires du coeur' as our French brethren would say. Even if that something is working out how to swallow the piece of dry bread that's been stuck in your mouth for 5 minutes and not pass out at the same time.