We sat in bed this morning and pondered our poor scorched and blistered livers.
We have had two nights of debauchery this week and in consequence did not feel very well when we woke up today.
Neither of us had headaches, but we were fragile and just a bit shaky. Fortunately we do not have any further social plans in the immediate future and can detoxify ourselves for a while.
We tottered out of bed and around the Library Gardens with the dogs, clutching one another’s hand and thinking that we might try harder to drink less on similar occasions in the future. When we have visitors I usually manage to preserve a relative level of sobriety by keeping a jug of water in the fridge, and towards the end of the evening I top my glass up with that instead of with more red wine. This is by way of a thoughtful kindness to the future me that I will become on the following morning.
I had prepared such a jug of water with cucumber and lemon, but somehow managed to forget all about it, and it was still there untouched this morning. In consequence of this neglect there was a carrier bag stuffed with empty wine bottles by the back door, which we left sheepishly at the bottle bank in the library car park.
Fortunately we had washed up and tidied up before we went to bed, it must be ghastly to have to get up to devastating evidence of joyous excess in the morning. Everything was neat and reassuring, and we made a pot of fragrant peppery tea and had still-fresh bread rolls for breakfast.
In lots of ways when we took stock of the state of affairs we thought that everything was actually going jolly well really. Our friends who had visited us are a relatively recent couple, and are still in the agonising stages of having important emotions and also bashing the corners off one another. We thought that it was an absolute relief to have that very thrilling part of life behind us, old age feels like such a lovely reward for all your exhausting efforts in your younger days.
In addition to feeling smug we discovered that there was a very great deal of Turkish dinner and chocolate cake left, sufficient for a couple of days of taxi picnics.
This was brilliant, I heated the leftover dinner up and shovelled it into flasks. Then I made the soft bread rolls into chicken and sesame sandwiches, and packed chunks of chocolate cake into pots, and ladled creamy honey yoghurt over it. I sliced up a melon and packed up some home made chocolate biscuits, and made a flask of Earl Grey tea, and thought that the evening would be a happy one.
We did not go out to work early, because of being a bit worried about feeling tired and shaky. Instead we climbed guiltily back into bed and slept blissfully for a couple of hours, after which we had hot showers and put on thick, comfortable clothes for work.
I am at work now. It is not terribly busy, so we have been sitting contentedly together in my taxi sharing our flask of tea. Outside the rain is battering down hard, and under the street lights the roads are shiny with puddles.
We are warm and dry and comfortable, feeling still and quiet inside, and knowing ourselves to be fortunate in every way. I have got a good book to read, and a picnic, and the world is a happy place.
I can’t imagine any life that could be better.
