The Morning After The Night Before

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellow,

OH

DEAR

GOD

I mean. I know we always say, "NEVER AGAIN" but it hit me HARD on Sunday morning.

And in the back of my mind was this: CHECKOUT TIME IS 10AM.

And SOMEHOW we had to get back to Paraparaumu and our couch and our bed and our cats. 

Feeling like we were having to CONCENTRATE VERY HARD to keep the vomit in.

And all train services had been replaced by busses. 

Caro had a brainwave. "Let's call an Uber," she said. 

So. One hundred dollars later a nice lady came to pick us up in her Juke. Today's picture is Caro standing outside the hotel waiting for her. The cold air made me feel better, but I had taken the bin-liners from the two bins in the hotel room just in case, just for backup. 

It made me feel better that they were there. 

By 11am we were back home, very relieved indeed that we had not spewed on anyone or anything. We fed cats, fed birds, climbed into pyjamas, ordered pizza and waited for the pain to subside. 

It did not. This is not just a hangover. 

This is a HANGOVER IN YOUR FIFTIES. 

Never. NEVER. EVER. 

AGAIN.

S.