Hanging over

I feel as rough as an old dirt track today.
I also feel like someone has removed my waist and replaced it with an inner tube from a tractor wheel. My liver is like an alcohol-soaked sponge and my guts are like a large sack full to bursting. I can remember clearly how much I ate last night, but I can’t believe I managed to fit it all in my stomach. What a meal we had! And what a pig I was! 
I’m reminded of a book I read about feasts that the Romans had, where they would eat about nine separate courses over a number hours, and would frequently pause to throw up so they could make space to put the next plateful.
Fat bastards.
I wish I had mentioned throwing up. It’s made me feel rather giddy again.
I’m off for some orange juice and some aspirin.

RC 10-2-13