Yesterday I spoke too soon when I crowed about feeling fine following my night over overindulgence. If bad stomachs and hangovers can skip a day, then I am suffering the consequences 36 hours later. Horrible stomach ache and dashes to the loo, tired and aching all over. I've been thinking back to what I ate yesterday that could have caused it, and I suppose half a plain chocolate Bounty bar, a digestive biscuit slathered with peanut butter, several slices of fresh, crusty French loaf from M&S and, to cap it all, fish pie, is a pretty indigestible mixture. Will I ever learn?
I'm off to a friend's 60th tonight. I'm full of good intentions not to drink, not to take the odd toke of a passing spliff (we called them joints in my day) just for old times' sake, not to plunge face first into the wheel of brie my mate has bought for the occasion, but I can already hear my spectral tones echoing from the future, saying, 'I'm sure just one won't hurt.' I shall record my transgressions tomorrow, if I'm in any fit state.
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