Dancing with Salty tears in my eyes....

I have a head cold which may explain my lack of entries lately. I haven't also done myself many favours as I've been larging it like some sort of party beast. Well- if you can count two late nights of drinking as 'larging' it... but it is by my standards these days. We began our debauchery on Friday night, where we travelled up to my old haunt Hoxton for a couple of pints with my younger brother. I yet again apparantely bought him the worst present in the world (hello? a Mitchell and Webb DVD? How can that EVER be a bad gift?) and resigned myself to years of uninspired voucher purchases. He has to be the fussiest man on earth. Anyway, was lovely to see the big giant sibling, and also be in the Electricity Showrooms once more, where I used to go when I lived around the corner. It's changed in a really weird way though, as it's been 'olded' up and made to look like a traditional boozer, when the last time I went in it was a brightly lit, modern cocktail bar. God Hoxton is an interesting place but so bloody pretentious. We then headed for Soho where we had a gorgeous Indian meal with one of my oldest pals Glenn. It was great to see him as ever as well as Sam, Su etc, although the evening was somewhat tainted by the fact that the man sat opposite me was a very outspoken sexual health nurse who thought it hilarious to tell me all the sordid details of where his hands had been that day. Incidentally I didn't finish my spicy lamb kebab. Andy and I caught the last train back to Brighton and giggled and/or sleepily drooled our way back home. As fun as the night had been, I spent the next day feeling as though I'd been attacked by a hungry DADDY walrus.
We then attended a friend's party the following night and that's when I realised I can no longer survive two nights out on the razzle without it all going hideously pear shaped. Within about an hour of the party I was twatted and was dancing about to the Happy Mondays whilst bawling my eyes out, feeling quite frankly utterly suicidal, despite nothing actually being wrong in my life. The combination of little sleep and vodka (plus this goddam head cold thing) turned me into a crazy needy shoe-gazing bitch and I soon got a cab, where I snivelled my self-pitying way back home. Pathetic. And to think there were people at the party with much worse on their plates- one amazing woman I met called Betty was even breathing through a hole in her neck after she had been in an accident on holiday where the balcony she was sitting on just collapsed. Jesus. No- I had no grounds to be in such a state but booze can do it to you sometimes. Plus, motherhood and partying don't mix. This is a fact that no one warns you of: going out drinking as a parent is likely to involve an embarrassing episode.
Oh- but the good thing that happened at The Party Where I Made a Twat Out of Myself (Although No One Will Actually Remember) was that we saw the lovely Lenni again, who has given me some items to help me get pure again. She is now the Salt Lady, and runs her own Himilayan salt business. Check out www.thesaltseller.co.uk.
We are now in Devon for half term doing lots of fun things with Sadie like making flapjacks and watering the garden. Time has slowed down and it's great to be here. I've been doing lots of cooking, walking and writing and finally last Saturday's nightmare is all a distant fuzz.

Soundtrack: Sadie versus the Spice Girls- Say You'll Be There (this version is much more entertaining)