It hurts

Man, I have a hangover.
My head is pounding and my guts are churning and my neck feels like someone’s twisted it round nine times. So if you can read this blog posting quietly I’ll be very, very grateful. 
I feel awful, but at least I’m up and about. Neither Hannah nor Philippa have surfaced from bed yet. That Bacardi Spice must be pretty potent stuff. I’m glad I stuck to the rum-flavoured Foster’s Rocks. Mind you, eight cans before opening that bottle of wine may have been pushing it a little.
If you’ll excuse me now, I’m feeling rather nauseous again and the sofa is suddenly looking very attractive. It’s time for a few paracetamol and a rest before ‘NFL Live from Wembley’

RC 1-11-15