Ouch

Well, being a glutton for punishment I went out for Frenchie’s birthday on Sat night.

I now wish I was dead. Not quite as much as I did yesterday, but still actively wishing for death. Let’s start at the very beginning… a very good place to start… when you read you begin with – oh… sorry… my bad….

So Sat morning I woke up feeling pretty damn fine and decided that I was going to go out with everyone that night. Headed into Oxford St and bought myself some new black ¾ pants (you can never have too many plus these ones don’t make me look shorter – just the opposite actually) and spent the rest of the day at the salon.

The other week I was supposed to get a fair bit of my hair chopped off but I chickened out at the last moment so this week I got it done – my hair is no longer red (it’s black) and I had 8 inches chopped off the bottom. I should have taken more off but will leave it a couple of weeks until I have gotten over the trauma of seeing all that hair lying on the floor (insert mental picture of me weeping copiously here). I was also waxed, hot stone massaged etc.

I also have to say, I fucking love hot stone massages – they are the shit. If you have never had one, drag your ass into a spa sometime and get one – you will thank me for it.

Sorry – back on topic now…

Got home, did my makeup and was ready to leave at 7pm as planned and extensively discussed.

LH had not even had a shower.

Now at this point I would like to make an apology to every single person that I have ever been late for – my boss, whose 2 farewell parties (I decided that one just wasn’t enough) I was over 2 hours late for each time (and I organised the damn things), my best friend C who is a time Nazi of old, my sister, who has learnt that when I say I will be at her place at ‘lunchtime’ that actually means that I will be there at about 3pm, previous bosses who learnt that giving me a start time anytime before 9am (esp. on a weekend) is not ‘optimistic’ - its just plain ‘stupid’ (so I’m not a morning person – so sue me)… I owe all of those people and many more a tremendous apology which I have forwarded to them via my latest weekly email (novel) home - because since coming over here, I have become the Naziest time-Nazi you ever did see.

I think my head nearly exploded waiting for her. The only reason it didn’t was I started making cocktails for everyone because at least if I am busy then I’m not sitting there thinking about how long she’s taking. She finally came down the stairs and announced that she was ready… She did look great though – I have to give her that.

Off to my most loved cocktail bar in Covent Garden (with the hot Polish bartender, who was on that night) (not to be confused with the hot Russian one who does the largest free pours known to mankind), then from there we headed to Leicester Square and a club there.

I didn’t actually drink much all night – 4 drinks in all including the drink I had at home and yet I was feeling violently ill by the time we left. I’m a bit baffled about that actually – the drink I made at home wasn’t strong, I ate (when do I not) a shit load of food, I had one drink at the cocktail bar (I was too busy talking to drink) and I had 2 drinks at the club (I was too busy dancing to drink) and yet by 2.30am I was barely able to walk and wanted to throw up. I don’t know what the hell that was about – I really must be getting old. K2 had to help me put my coat on when we left because I sure as hell couldn’t manage it by myself. I fell asleep in the cab on the way home and I barely managed to take my makeup off (I couldn’t even shower - ARGH) before my eyes closed and I passed out

It was very unfortunate that they opened again a few hours later – at 6am to be precise.

God that hurt.

I managed to put on my sleeping/eye mask thingy and tried to go back to sleep but I was so thirsty and even though I keep a large bottle of water next to my bed, I actually couldn’t lift my head off the pillow to drink from it (or my arm to reach for it, truth be told).

I finally fell asleep again and woke up at about 10 when I managed to swallow 4 Nurofen Plus and a litre of water then back to sleep.

At 11.30 I texted MH to ask if she was awake and wanting breakfast – I texted because there was no way I was getting out of bed and walking to her room to ask her just in case she didn’t – I was staying horizontal as long as possible damnit.

Thankfully she thought that was a great idea – via texts we decided that we’d give it another hour or so though before we got up and had showers etc.

I also discovered that I had almost no voice – and what I did have was very hoarse and the pitch changed mid word without any way of controlling it – needless to say, I didn’t talk much on Sat.

We headed into Bond St and had breakfast at Carluccio’s – you know how sometimes, you desperately need food, but when you put the food in your mouth, your body utterly rejects the idea?? That’s pretty much where I was at. I managed to eat breakfast but felt close to passing out the whole time and gagged at every mouthful. Afterwards I just wanted to throw up.

After the food settled a little we headed to Selfridges and had a wander round. After seeing how I did my makeup the night before, MH decided that she wanted to learn how to wear makeup (she normally doesn’t wear any at all) so that was fun. Had afternoon tea there (immediately after eating I felt violently ill again) then home.

Skipped dinner last night and had a candle-lit soak in the bathtub.

Bed by 10pm

Today I am feeling very average and I still have very little voice. More then yesterday, but that’s not really saying much.

Detox starts now. Date for Tues night has been postponed.