I can’t drink anymore. Two weeks after my 31st birthday and I definitely can no longer cope with late nights and lots of alcohol. The night was great, just the aftermath…not so much.
We saw a band in a bar who played all the best 90’s and 00’s hits. Think TLC- Waterfalls and Beyonce’s Work It Out. The bar had no white wine and only one bottle of prosecco but it got us in the mood.
We stopped for a drink in a Hawaiian themed club but after spying at least three hen do’s quickly moved on.
We visited the most cheesy club you could ever possibly imagine called PopWorld. It had no air-conditioning, the floor was sticky, the clientele looked like extras from ‘The Hills Have Eyes’ but the drinks were cheap and the music was cheesy so, like the sensible ladies we are, we decided to drink until it got fun and I couldn’t feel my feet hurting (breaking in your new, nude stilettos is not a great idea for these type of nights out apparently)
Two double gin and tonics and we were getting there. We had a little dance and also managed to find the only working (albeit intermittently) air con unit, we were happy!
Somehow in the midst of this I also managed to pull a guy. He was hot, his name was Sam, he was 28 so we snogged. Apparently the G&T’s had lowered my age as well as my inhibitions! It was a proper snog – hilarious!
We swapped numbers but the next time I saw his phone it was being hurled into the road I was standing next to and a woman in Doc Martins was stamping on it! She’d pissed him off so he threw her bag somewhere, then she threw his phone into the road and stamped on it. Somehow I don’t think I’ll be getting a call back from him.
So another club, indelible ink stamped on my hand, a packed dance floor, some more drinks and it was definitely home time. 4am, we’d stayed out till 4am!
We snuck in so as not to wake Rachel’s fiancé (we found out later we failed royally), we got changed, took our make up off and went to bed. I couldn’t possibly comment whether I was sick in Rachel’s sink before actually falling asleep or not.
I woke up at 10.30am, which on any other day I would be so excited by as I haven’t had a lie in till then for years, but I felt rough. ROUGH. Get up and be sick, then go to sleep again – rough. I normally have a fairly cast iron stomach but apparently not anymore.
All my hangover cures failed. Full fat coke – nope. Toast and butter – nope. Rachel even cooked me her fail safe Mac and Cheese but one bite and I knew it wasn’t going to work!
So after a delicate drive home and a MacDonald’s on the way I came to the conclusion I am now old. Thank goodness for Bank Holiday weekends were me and my feet can have two days to recover, scrub off the sharpie from my hand and visit a friends farm and eat cake with Charlotte.
Hope you all had a good one!