Well...I managed to drink almost a litre of vodka on Friday in a rather uncharacteristic bout of feeling sorry for myself...Tom came round to check I was ok, but I’d talked to James some and put my shields up somewhat by the time he arrived. We watched Requiem for a Dream - me slurring stuff about the pretty photography probably didn’t help, but hey. Tom brought me chocolate So I showed him “Kids in the Hall” and then he went home happy. Or something So my 29th birthday was started as I woke up to the sound of Andy singing to me on the answerphone. Phoned back, after downing a large V&C and chatted lots with my mother and pointed out how chatty I was when hungover, which probably cheered her up no end I’ve never tried drinking in the morning, so I did, just to see what it was like. OK, so it was more like afternoon, but hey... I had half a glass of V&C and then promptly ran out so I stopped again. Sleepily crawled back into bed to wait for James to come round and hug me...which we did. Got up eventually and then made our way to Tower Hill, where we met lowlandcactus (Sunin) and Harry and Winjer fresh from the march (yeah right...the pub) Everyone else managed to be puncually inadiquate, Dom and Pete managing to turn up almost an hour late, so we drank, we ate, we drank more... I had squished up pig bits in butter followed by cow chunk and chips. It was still bleeding gorgeously Also managed to get through almost two entire jugs of water. God was I hungover. Waved at Blaine a bit...was briefly amused by two people walking past..."there’s a person up there! Look!" “nah there’s not, you’re having me on” "no really, there is!" etc. I don’t even have a telly and I know he’s there. Tsk. Some people! Got home, managed to sleep badly - not helped by James having a nightmare half way through the night and scaring the crap outta me Woke up, pootled about...watched Angel again, giggled @ stand-in effects, bummed about on computers...chatted lots with James about relationship and stuff...who knows what’s gonna happen now Slept like a log and woke up this morning still knackered and feeling like I’m coming down with flu (which I’m not) and like I’ve been crying for a week (which I’ve not). Ah well...things can only get better, as they say...tho by the look of the Labour Party I suspect Peter Cunnagh was lying. Motto of the day. "I’m having a bad day, I just need to get up and sort out the details..."