Bad idea.

It is always a bad idea to lose the run of one's self mid week.
Always.
Here I sit, hungover like a goat, hands trembling, eyebrows very low, drinking coffee and wondering about what to have for breakfast, wheetabix or toast? Who can say, who can not say, who feels worse than me right this second, nobody probably.
T'was my own fault. I went to kickboxing, got flung arund for a while, headed for home and on one of those strange quirks of fate I met a gal I haven't seen for a while just down the road from the house.
'Hey, what are you doing here?'
'I just called to your house, you really ought to get a mobile.'
'Hah, no fear. What's up?'
'I"ve got a week off work.' She said most miserably.
This girl works in fashion, when most prople have a week off work they are happy about it, fashion people are bereft.
'Do you want to go to lunch?'
'Cracking idea.' I replied,'Lemmie grab a quick shower and check my emails. I can't stay out ages though, I've a mountain of work on.'
'God, lucky you.' She said, and she meant it.
SO we went to 66 on Georges Street. Over priced, half empty and not velly good sea food, but some excellent wine, we had some more of that. Gossip gossip blather blather, have another bottle, why, don't mind if I do.'
Then we went for coctails, Raspberry Teas, VELLY GUD indeed, then somehow- I actually don't know how this part happened- another friend of mine arrived and more cocktails were ordered. Then we went to that friend's apartment, tried on fur coats and, drank wine, then somehow it was dinner time and we ended up somewhere off The Quays eating Italian sea-food and pasta and drinking more wine, then there were shoots of sambuca, then some other guy arrived,a little gay who said 'he wasn't a queen, he was a printhess', that little lisping queen was mocked mercilessly. He responded by telling us salacious stories 'bout celebrities whose hair he glues on and cuts. We all listened agog as we stumbled back up the road in straight into the loving arms of The Porterhouse.
HEY HO! Look who's here, The Norweigan. Looking glum but feeling dandy. What are we drinking HEY HO!
Suffice to say the rest of the evening is a bit hazy.
But I do know this, I didn't get a bloody thing done and I am suffering mightily today for my troubles. I hope my lunch companion is suffering too. I hope the barman who served us is suffering, I hope everybody is suffering, including anyone that might read this, actually, especially you lot.
Wednesday lunches, I'm against it!