Numpy Dumpty

Dear O'H dear and Lovely Tea Jenny,

I had a night out straight after work with Rod, Doddzilla & The Bottomless Pit. It started well. I had booked a table in The Cambridge Bar so we could have food. I was first to arrive and I had a chat with the barman about which beers were lower in strength as I didn’t want to end up hammered.

He suggested one and I felt quite smug that I was being so sensible and watching my limit.

Fast forward several hours...

There were rounds of Sambuccas. That’s probably the only explanation you need.

When Rod and I were stumbling walking home after a cracking night, we fell and I bumped my head as I landed. My head had a small cut which looked worse than it was as it was bleeding quite a lot. A passer by stopped and insisted on calling an ambulance.

As you can imagine, The Prince was delighted to get a call at 1.45 am from a very drunk Rod telling him ‘not to worry but there’s been a small accident. No need to come. The ambulance is on its way’!

The Prince decided that he might not take the advice of someone who was slurring their words. He had the joy of sitting in A&E with his drunk wife (and all the other drunks). He was brilliant about it although I probably won’t enter a ‘wife of the year’ competition any time soon!

One hospital visit later. I am completely fine other than a headache and a large helping of mortification.

I think that’s the final nail in the coffin of my shot drinking career.

C