. . . it was one long night, and I don't feel right . . .
The phrase "shall we open another bottle?" is henceforth banned in this household.
It is indeed lovely to meet up with an old friend - especially an old school friend from, what? 40 years ago? But, really, a hangover at 55? 3 o'clock in the morning is not a good time to go to bed by anyone's standards - and let's face it, mine are low enough. Anyway, it didn't last too long and you're welcome here to discuss old times and drink to time past and time passing.
I can't possibly divulge some of the things that were discussed - let's just say that if the novel ever gets written, it will be more faction than fiction - but we may have put a few skeletons to bed. They probably got back up and danced the night away - I got up later and felt my mortality.
A very decent Indian meal that did not repeat itself on Saturday morning and plenty of good English beer meant that there was no ill feeling the following morning - mine came from not really getting to THAT point very often. However, a good time was had by all and all in all, we were able to laugh and toast to all sorts of situations, none of which were problematic.
Time moves us all on and makes us feel inadequate quite easily but, in reality, we're all just moving on as best we can. We've all been dealt interesting cards - we just have to play according to those.
After last week and decorating our son's room, we have found ourselves pulling up scotia etc to accommodate various bookcases - and, of course, putting up the inevitable blinds.
Once again, they went up okay - another dify moment postponed.
. . . where's my head, where's the bed? . . .
lyrics by terry Wood