Still on autopilot but I imagine at this stage of proceedings (if I’ve survivied) I’m going to be feeling a little worse for wear. I hope I made it back to the hotel and I hope I’m not awake yet. I hope there’s a cooked breakfast downstairs. I hope I still have my wallet. and valuables and didn’t try to pawn them off for an extra few dutch gold last night. I hope the stag survivied but his dignity took a hammering. I hope Argentina beat France in the rugby and that they sustained heavy casualities at the same time. I hope the room isn’t spinning.
I hate hangovers, but I’ve found that the older I get, they don’t get much worse just longer I think. It depends on how you cope the minute you wake up. If you can drag yourself to the shower, get changed and down to breakfast before you feel sorry for yourself, then you have a fighting chance. If, however, you wake up, feel sorry for yourself, roll over and try to make the bad pains go away, that’s when you’re scuppered. The last stag do I was on, it took a monumental effort to get up after three hours sleep, and a lot of beer, to go without breakfast to a paintballing ground outside of Barcelona in 25°C heat at ten in the morning. Then we ran around for two to three hours! I almost died, at least in Cork I know there’s no paintballing and the temperature probably won’t be 25°C! Small mercies.
But at least there’s the prospect of three more rugby games today to keep my mind off things and on the beer. I’ve never believed in “the hair of the dog” strategy but I get the feeling today could be another attempt!