Middle aged hangovers…

Friends of ours got married at the weekend and had a ‘do’ at a restaurant for friends in the evening. S & I went, only our 5th night out together since E was born and enough of a rare treat for me to refer to them as ‘dates’.

Perhaps it’s the lack of practice but I’m hopeless with sensible things to tell babysitters. A friend brought her marking round and asked if there was anything she should know. I pointed out how to use the tv and all the different teas we have and then realised I ought to think of something useful to tell her if E woke up. I ended up with vaguely saying “well, you could give her a cuddle or something…” and hoped it would be ok. In the event, E didn’t settle easily and did need a cuddle and Old McDonald singing to her but we were on our way in the rain by then.

The food was delicious, it was lovely to see old friends and have a good chat and the evening went far too fast. Like a big parenting cliche we ended up discussing education. (As well as other things, but the talk kept coming back to schools. Ah well.)

Neither of us thought we had very much to drink. W’re not big drinkers anyway and obviously not going out very much any more we’re out of practice. S had a bottle of beer, I had twoglasses of red wine, one with dinner. That was it. Didn’t feel drunk at all. Anyway, we told the babysitter we wouldn’t be late so it was with horror that I looked at my watch, feeling it was about 20 minutes after we sat down, that it was already 11pm. It took us another 25 minutes to say goodbye, finish chatting and leave to get the tram home so it was midnight when we rolled through the door and apologised to the babysitter, calmly reading a zombie novel on the sofa. We sat and watched a Clint Eastwood movie for a while, downing a glass of water each.

So when I woke in the night with night sweats, feeling queasy, I really didn’t think it was fair. S didn’t think it was fair that he had a thick head the next morning either. And so tired! The two of us felt delicate and pathetic for most of the day, and somehow I was aching like I’d done loads of exercise. Lightweight? Well yes. And for that amount of pain and inconvenience I want to have spent the night before dancing on tables or something, not just sitting about eating, drinking and putting the world to rights.

You read in the paper all the time about Britain’s drinking problem. My drinking problem isn’t quite the one they’re worrying about.

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