I have a hangover. This is the first real hangover I have had since living here. I thought I was invincible. I thought I could drink anything in huge amounts and escape the dreaded headache .... Wrong. It found me. Ahhhhhggggh. I have had three very delicate days. Actually this is the third. Poor little me.
I have started a painting, a bit half heartedly. I am just waiting for some sort of miracle to happen and I will somehow get it together.
Mr Smith, brother of Mr Smith, came to stay. He's coming again. He likes it here even though we gave him an uncomfortable single bed and no ensuite bathroom. He is frightfully dictatorial telling me what I am to have etc. I will have want I want thanks. I wonder if he would like to stay at the seaside flat next time?
The painters painted the walls the wrong colour. Some mix up at the paint shop. It was dark cafe au lait instead of light Elastoplast. It's perfect now.
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