i have hangover cubed. that's a hangover on a hangover on a hangover.
i also have another kind of hangover - a roll of flab that spills from over the top of my jeans. it's a brouilly belly (i don't drink beer – far too butch). it was a sad sad day when i realised there were calories in alcohol. and not just any old calories. empty calories.
and i'm going on holiday in two and half weeks. every year i think to myself 'right, this year, i WILL have a flat tummy for the beach' then i go into psychotically social mode and go out night after night boozing.
i've always said that the best thing about me and the worst thing about me is that i am ALWAYS up for a drink.
so yesterday i had a Christmas food preview. this basically consisted of trying loads of food and drinking Champagne and shots of flavoured vodka. at midday!
i then went out with a mate in the evening to a new gaff in Park Lane where, apparently (does that take care of the lawyers?) there had been some shenanigans with rohypnal the previous night (too late again!).
so, get there. get in, by the skin of our teeth – despite the fact that mate is actually the pr for the place.
it is full of suits and overly tall, overly blonde sloaney types neighing things like 'Sophie, you look amaaaaaaaaaaaazing' and 'oh you must meet my backer, he's a sweetie'.
we were meant to have a table.
'private event i'm afraid, you can't have a table until later. can't you come back after supper.'
er, no.
'oh yes, i've got you down on our lists. no table, just 10 drinks.'
so, we get to stand at the bar drinking 5 cocktails each, being stamped on by suits and horses?
we took a rain check and went into Soho instead.
Vodka gimlet is currently vying with frozen margarita for favourite drink ranking.