You know you’re getting older when…

…your hangovers are no longer proportionate to how hammered you were the night before. On the basis of what's happening to my body right now, I should have been virtually unconscious last night instead of throwing 'interesting' shapes on the dancefloor of a medieval barn in Dorset. You know, upright and with use of legs and most of co-ordination. Yet I had to tuck myself into a tearoom in Sherborne that smelled of fried eggs and dishwater this morning and whimper over a can of Coke to bring the sugar up, and my head is still pounding. It's 8pm. I may never be healthy again. I may actually be dying. Damn you Riesling!

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