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Since my last update, I've had two drunken nights out, one day nursing a hangover, two boring days at work, and not much else.
Wednesday/Thursday's hilarity ensued from me going for a 'quick drink' after work, that turned in to 5 pints of Stella sat outside the York in the space of 3 1/2 hours, followed by a string of random pubs and clubs. I got home at about 4am on Thursday morning, and somehow (I think because I was drinking Diet Coke for quite some time) I managed to drag myself out of bed at 8 and get to work for 9.30, an impressive feat indeed, considering the utter doom I'd predicted for myself that day.
Friday, I didn't touch a drop of alcohol. I did however experience what is currently Numero Uno in my 'Nightmare Journeys Home' chart. It involved five different trains, on four different lines, and took an hour and a half for a trip that is normally around a third of that.
* Most timings are approximate.
Saturday/Sunday was far more inebriated, if only because I started drinking at about 2pm and my only let-ups, really, were whilst I was in transit from location to location. I met someone for lunch in Greenwich, which was very pleasant due in no uncertain terms to the weather, followed by a couple of pints. I scooted back home as fast as the DLR and Tube would allow me, and flumped down to watch Tim Henman lose (which he didn't) and listen to England lose at cricket to South Africa (which they didn't). I wasn't planning to drink, but![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arosoff starting going on about spirits and persuaded me to mix a couple of experimental cocktails. Next up was a games-playing party and the consumption of a large quantity of red wine, and finally rolling home at 4.15am. I fell asleep on my sofa until about 7, then hid myself in bed for a few more hours. Sunday was thus spent being very tired, having a hangover, and not doing anything of any consequence.
And that, as they say, is that.
Wednesday/Thursday's hilarity ensued from me going for a 'quick drink' after work, that turned in to 5 pints of Stella sat outside the York in the space of 3 1/2 hours, followed by a string of random pubs and clubs. I got home at about 4am on Thursday morning, and somehow (I think because I was drinking Diet Coke for quite some time) I managed to drag myself out of bed at 8 and get to work for 9.30, an impressive feat indeed, considering the utter doom I'd predicted for myself that day.
Friday, I didn't touch a drop of alcohol. I did however experience what is currently Numero Uno in my 'Nightmare Journeys Home' chart. It involved five different trains, on four different lines, and took an hour and a half for a trip that is normally around a third of that.
| Time* | Station | Line | Reason |
| 18:30 | Old Street | Northern, Southbound | At Old Street as I'd been swimming. Northbound trains suspended due to points failure at Camden town. |
| 18:50 | Moorgate | Circle, Westbound | Right, got to get to King's Cross. |
| 19:05 | Barbican | Metropolitan, Westbound | King's Cross closed. Let's try and get Thameslink... oops, can't get Thameslink from here. |
| 19:23 | Farringdon | Thameslink, Northbound | I'll get to Kentish Town if it kills me. |
| 19:40 | Kentish Town | Northern, Northbound | At bloody last! |
| 20:00 | Woodside Park | Northern, Northbound | I'm home, finally. |
* Most timings are approximate.
Saturday/Sunday was far more inebriated, if only because I started drinking at about 2pm and my only let-ups, really, were whilst I was in transit from location to location. I met someone for lunch in Greenwich, which was very pleasant due in no uncertain terms to the weather, followed by a couple of pints. I scooted back home as fast as the DLR and Tube would allow me, and flumped down to watch Tim Henman lose (which he didn't) and listen to England lose at cricket to South Africa (which they didn't). I wasn't planning to drink, but
arosoff starting going on about spirits and persuaded me to mix a couple of experimental cocktails. Next up was a games-playing party and the consumption of a large quantity of red wine, and finally rolling home at 4.15am. I fell asleep on my sofa until about 7, then hid myself in bed for a few more hours. Sunday was thus spent being very tired, having a hangover, and not doing anything of any consequence.And that, as they say, is that.
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From:
The Road of Vice