The cyclic nature of hangovers
Trip Start May 27, 2010
97Trip End Aug 31, 2011
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Once I'd finally recovered (by about Tuesday I think I was back on track) I went with Phil and his parents to a showcase of bands and tribute acts that were scouting for work. We sat in the social club, keen to see some good music that might be appropriate for a wedding party, but after the first few acts there were an ever increasing amount of crosses next to the names on the line-up and we were quite quick to rule them out. Unless of course we wanted an Abba tribute group or a potty-mouthed comedienne. It was a nice night out nonetheless, and we walked away with a bit of a chuckle but glad we'd been to see what options were available to us.
On Wednesday night we continued the theme of party organising and booked a venue at which to have a party in the new year to celebrate becoming husband and wife. This, on the same day that I was discussing with my Nottingham friend how quickly we've all grown up. "When did that happen?" we said to each other, concerned that our lives are whizzing by.
And then on Thursday night Phil and I went and secured an area at a lovely country pub where we will go after we get married. I really hope it snows, it'll be so coooool!We had decided on a quiet weekend, and after Philo picked me up after work and displayed some of his finest road rage, we grabbed some supplies at the Chinese grocer and headed home to eat too many dumplings and spring rolls. Mmmmmmm. All washed down with a few bottles of cider, a boring-ish movie and a reasonably early night.
Saturday was just an average day, grocery shopping and making pizzas and watching X Factor. I'm not sure why we bother to be honest. The "talent" on that show is absolute shite. It's a laughing stock really.
Sunday was another quiet day with Phil out playing football and me at home doing all things domestic, but feeling particularly homesick. Cousin Mark and his gorgeous bride Kylie were getting married on Sunday, and I was devastated that I couldn't be there to join in the celebrations. After making a promise to them before I left last year that I would most definitely fly home if they were to get married, I had to break it. Two trips home in one year just wasn't going to be possible. I was able to speak very briefly (literally "hi, bye") to Mark and almost just as briefly to other family members, before retreating to the couch and waiting for old mate to drag his weary bones through the door. Weary he was not, despite the 5-0 thrashing. He said that his cousin Richo was talking about going to the pub to watch the football, and so I jumped at the chance to get out of the house and have a few too many drinks. Too many drinks that meant we ended up at the kebab burger shop and headed home with potato cakes and kebab burgers. On a Sunday night. What a life.
And so the cycle is complete. Another week beginning and ending with yet another hangover. It is herein obvious that I haven't learnt a thing.