Under The Rim

You know when people say "never again"?  Well I think I have had the hangover that takes this to new and pristine levels of never again-ness.  It didn't seem like I drank a lot on Saturday.  Perhaps it was the excitement of visiting my friend, a new town, a date and a BIG FAIR.  And then we got locked out.  All this had a background theme of red wine.  A's bathroom is very white.  If you are squeamish, look away now.  When I had ejected two meals, some crisps, chocolate-covered peanuts, and about a bottle and half of red wine it was not quite so white.  It looked like a murder scene.  There is nothing quite as humbling when feeling mortally nauseous, as cleaning your own dark red ricey vomit from under the rim of a toilet.  My body felt very damaged and sicky all day yesterday and today I'm still not too clever.  NEVER. AGAIN.  I think it was the crisps.

The date was ok, but it was lovely to see A.  The locking out was quite comical as I said (jokingly) "Got your keys?" and she said yes and shut the door.  Ah.  Fortunately a spare set live with a very lovely couple on the other side of town and they came over later.

In the meantime there was the Kermis, which sprawled across the centre of town filling any available space with plunging, deathy rides.  Quite spectacular.  One of them seemed to come within about six feet of someone's balcony.  I needed to pee but the loos were shut.  A helpful Dutch lady told me with a smile "You can go in MacDonalds upstairs if you need to pee.  Or shit." .  Local radio played an oompah version of "Sex on Fire", which was brilliant.

Sunday afternoon it was summer for a bit, so we lay in the garden, A in the sun, me in the shade, putting mascara on very, very slowly.