Sunday drinking, good idea in principle, hugely stupid idea in practice! I went out with the express intention of having a quiet night, but as soon as the bartender says a “double for a extra quid”, you know it’s going to go all wrong! The first hour seemed harmless enough, but as the Jack flowed the hours gradually blurred into one. A couple of pubs later and I really needed food!
Now eating a donner kebab wrap while pumped up on Jack Daniels wasn’t really my finest hour! In fact I fed the settee (or couch) about as much as I ate meself. (I only know this because of the mess I found when I woke up and wandered into me sitting room) but at least I remembered that I ate the lot! Mind you, the nights sleep was a bit crap as all I could taste was garlic when I drunk yawned.
Now knowing I was in mortal danger of up chucking my supper, I tried as hard as I could to make my self as comfortable as possible in bed, that didn’t work, a stiff neck and shoulder coupled with indigestion and heart burn make for poor bedfellows. So at three o’clock in the morning, my mind gave up and got me out of bed. All pretence of sleep vanquished as I stumbled around me flat line a zombie! This wasn’t going to bode well for the next day. Needless to say I missed lost of Monday, oh well!