Friday night found me in a bar in Southwark, to celebrate the birthday of the fabulous Jon. Also great to meet up again with Cath, Owen and Tammy, who ensured that I got to Brixton Hill in one piece. How I got from Brixton Hill to home and into bed will remain a mystery. I did take some photos but I really ought to know by now that when under the influence I can't work even a point and shoot. I also had a chat with Chris, who seems a nice chap.
A drive to Eastbourne managed to clear my hangover. We agreed that we would have a little stroll (tick), dinner (tick) and 'one or two' drinks, (tick tick tick tick tick tick...), before getting an early night.
When the alarm went off at eight o'clock much swearing occurred. I suppose two am is early for some people...
We abandoned all plans of a serious walk and sat on the beach for four hours. We had forgotten our swimming costumes, but I thought 'sod it, I'll take off my trousers and just wear my knickers'. My legs and stomach are now red, and are radiating such heat. Even my neck above the v of my t shirt is red. I don't do red. It's flipping England, it's September.
I'm never going to drink again. My new favourite drink is water.
