Too much food, not enough action

I spent most of the hours between 1 and 3 this morning throwing up.
I think it was over-eating.
Beryl made some rather lovely broccoli and stilton soup and I made a bit of a pig of myself. Then last night Hannah and I ate our way through a box of chocolates while talking about Christmas and Sophie. And then I went to bed. And then I woke up feeling like someone had put my stomach in a washing machine and set it on spin.

Beryl gave me hassle about Philippa yesterday as well. She said “Oh, that girl was so nice, and it was so obvious you liked each other, why haven’t we seen her since the World Cup?” I found myself being honest and saying “Because I’m an idiot. I ended up being nasty to her because I was jealous and confused and things haven’t been the same since.” Beryl shook her head and walked off saying ‘shame, shame’ Ted just called me a bloody kid, and an amateur, and told me I should ‘man up’ and ‘get it on’ before it’s too late and I end up lonely, gay or married to someone I’ve never loved.
I asked him which one applied to him and he said this: “All is well in my world. I have no regrets, and do you know why? When I met the woman of my dreams, I told her so and I set out to win her. I didn’t hide behind fear and jealousy and miss my chance of happiness. You think about that next time you’re looking at that girl across the office in silence.”
Sometimes he’s so right I hate him.

RC 27-9-10