The Bus is Parked, I'm on the Wagon
The next morning I had to go to work with the geeks at the vendor meeting. It was a bit of a drag, not helped by the mild hangover, so I kept my hands and mouth busy all day by eating sandwiches and biscuits. Seemed to do the trick, I don't think anyone noticed.
I went out for dinner and a few drinks with the geeks at night after the meeting. I was feeling pretty rough by now, my body no longer copes with 3 days drinking like when I was 21. Maybe because I'm nearer 41, I'm not sure. One of the the group commented that my eye was a slightly different colour, but I'm putting that down to bad lighting and too much artificial colours from the salad cream in the sandwiches.
This morning however, I was really fed up with Ireland. I was away from home, without my favourite green jumper, it was cold and very wet. I ordered a taxi, and the lying bugger said they would be there in 2 minutes, so I waited outside the hotel. After 15 minutes the bugger still hadn't turned up, so when a taxi arrived for someone else, I think he said Windy Miller but accent was odd so I'm not sure, anyway, I just got in. I just wanted to be home. So, I've decided to go on the wagon. No more beer. No more curries. No more Wagon Wheels. That's it. I'm a new man.