Drinking and driving

Popped over to Nottingham yesterday to deliver Mum's birthday presents, and used it as a good excuse for an evening at the dear old Test Match with mates.

I *had* planned to pace myself, interspersing pints of the amber nectar with equal quantities of lime and soda, but my "good friend" Phil did me the "favour" of offering us a lift down to the pub.

I should have took more notice of the sign I was given from the Universe - I only picked his offer up when I turned on my phone, and by that time we were already in the pub, having driven down. But no, on his arrival he was insistent that he could still come with me while I took my car home, and run me back, and then take us both home later. For some mad reason this seemed like a good idea at the time. It's been a while since I had a good session.

And there's a very good reason for that, which I didn't remember until this morning.

Even at 3.5% there's a limit to the amount of beer one may drink with impunity. And yes, I exceeded the limit. Doesn't help when you're surrounded by people who complain that they "can't drink like they used to" and then proceed to drink like they used to.

Still, no harm done eh? We had a marvellous time and after a couple of coffees and a few rounds of toast I was as right as rain. Although we did also succumb to an unaccountable longing for a Big Mac on the way home. Another strange side-effect of too much beer.