I am never, ever breaking Rule 1 again. Never. I have lost a valuable whole day off due to the most horrendous hangover for quite some time. Rule 1 is now an unbreakable rule. Never again. I had thought a gap of a few hours between the pint of Stella and the potato juice would be safe, but I was wrong. So very very wrong.
My arse has vanished beyond the moon, my stomach keeps trying to turn over and head feels like a mashed melon. I am as pale as the night.
I should listen to Phil. Rule 1. It's the only way.
My greatest single power is the ability when totally fucked up on drink to find my way home. I'm like an alcohol fuelled ninja on a night out, one minute I am there, the next gone. Drives my drinking mates mental so it does!
I've learned it's not just restricted to nights out now, was round at Broon's and he was on the phone in another room and all of sudden I was out of it thanks the booze and just went home. He came through to find me gone.
I found a bottle of wine in a cupboard that had been there since...I'm not sure. It was foul though, so mostly poured down the sink. Contemplating the can of beer that has been in the fridge since the summer.
Shame I can't fit the bottle of Arran Sunset sitting in my fridge down the intertubes - you could have had that instead.
I've a bottle of wine sitting in my fridge that has been there for quite a while - as it is corked and not screw topped I am loath to open it, seeing as I would have to throw most of it out once it turned into vinegar.
Ah well - I have had my one pint of the evening, a nice draft of Orkney Dark Island which has gone down rather nicely. Back onto the blueberry juice for me.