The weekend: a misadventure.

So, we have a TM practice (we're steadily approaching a gig-worthy state, I think) as usual on Saturday afternoon, and then we retire to the 13^th Note for some tasty vegetarian food. We are joined by the Captain for some entertaining and edifying chat, and consume a few rounds of wanky lager, as is our wont.

Suddenly, I'm plastered. It is unclear in my mind as to when this happened. (I sincerely hope that I didn't piss off any 13^th Note staff!) Some time later, Doug, Davis and I are back in Doug's flat, drinking some very ill-advised vodka+oranges. A little later than that, I am forced to enjoy the use of Doug's barfroom.

Ye Gods. I am woken by the noonday sun, with a hangover the size of a planet. I can hear Doug occasionally moan in the other room. I absolutely have to get up so I can get back to Edinburgh to meet Rachel, so I do, around 4 pm. Doug continues to moan, and in fact does so for the next 24 hours.

On the train I recover sufficently to start using the past tense.

I finally got back just in time to meet Rachel at the train station, and we caught up over the course of a thoroughly civilised evening, encompassing some more rather good veggie food (at Bann's, and which thankfully stayed down this time), very little booze and an abundance of chat. Very grown-up, and very enjoyable.