All boozed out

I think my liver hates me. It wasn't my fault honest, how was I to know that I was drinking from the glass of eternal wine. Hmmm.... it could also have something to do with a week of farewells and reunions.

It started off quite innocently last Friday night. As usual I was lounging around in my old tracksuit pondering the meaning of life when Miss C suggested I join her and a couple of mates for drinks in Hammersmith. Not wanting to be anti-social I quickly threw on the glad rags and war paint, and dashed for the tube not wanting to miss happy hour.

It all started to go downhill when my old work crowd started to pour into the bar. I knew I was in trouble the minute my old partner in crime entered and shouted "Scampi!" giving me the biggest hug ever. (And no I am not going to explain why he calls me Scampi.)

The evening passed by in a blur of champagne and much silliness, including my mates trying to pull a guy on my behalf - nice try guys! We were reliving the good ol' days and it was brilliant!

Lured by the promise of food the next morning, I ignored the marching band that had taken up residence in my head and bravely ventured out to my mates place. Two cups of espresso, one sausage roll later I was back in action ready for farewell party number 1.

Last night was the last of the farewells (for this month anyway) - it was tame in comparison to some of the parties we have had but the booze did flow steadily. Oh and thanks to the guys for leaving the image of them dressed in women's clothes and high heels imprinted on my mind forever!

Having woken up with another hangover this morning I have decided to give up the booze. I seriously need to do some work and I am unable to write anything when my brain is mush. So I intend going into hermit mode and letting my liver heal.

Well - until next week anyway.