Drunk is a word that has described me a lot in the past...Not in a dark, sinister way but in a lighthearted, playful way.
I used to love to party and 'Get drunk' with my friends. I'd always be the one who fell out of the mini bus at the end of a good night out...unless we had to walk home which was more often than not.
The cold air suddenly hitting me as I leave the club either making me want to throw up or fall over...I usually fell over. I'd lean on hubby as we look towards the huge queues for taxi's and decide against the wait, passing the long line of shivering girls dressed in their Bas Vegas Bling and stiletto's, fags in hand fighting with their boyfriends or other girls who had dared look at their boyfriends. As we walk further on we pass the even more intoxicated men & women sitting on kerbs throwing up into gutters, mates trying to drag them up onto their feet to somehow get them home.
As we walk my feet are throbbing...I mean REALLY Throbbing from wearing heels and dancing the night away without a care in the world, I'm beginning to regret not sitting down more or that I didn't think to stash a pair of micro pumps in my bra before I went out. My nausea begins to pass, the happy chatter of my friends helps as we giggle, stagger and fall all the way home or hopefully, if we are lucky we might find an abandoned shopping trolley at the side of the road to transport us. More Laughter follows...Nausea completely forgotten now until I arrive home, crawl into bed and the room begins to spin.
Next morning BIG BANGING headache, and VERY LITTLE Memory...But I know I had a Good Night...I always did! But do I want to do it all again now?
As I begin my forties I'm content to stay home, enjoying quiet drinks with friends and family or sometimes not so quiet.
My Former Drunk Days of lots of parties & Clubs were Fun but I'm happy for those days to stay Former and for life to be a little less 'Eventful'....
Must be getting old, lol!