The trouble was, we had a pint in Irvine, wine with dinner at the Wetherspoons, and bought a BOX of wine to have at home, and oh my God! Miraculously, I posted in the wee small hours somehow, and it’s relatively articulate, if a trifle surreal. One of us washed, dried and put away all the dishes.

So today we’re both very fragile. Very. Not to say poorly.

It’s on days like this I question our tellyless status. It’s a hangover that makes you want the comfort of cable: Dad’s Army or Bergerac.

Enough. The keyboard’s making me nauseous.

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