D'oh

Staying out till two in the morning last night is no longer seeming clever. As I slouch over my computer, slurping coffee, shaking a little (I nursed about four beers over five hours last night, so God knows how I'm hung-over - I blame it on the Swedish cider I tried, which tasted more like soda-stream than something made out of real fruit. Uck). And it's fecking freezing. Didcot has had to lend me his jumper, because I was looking so miserable and goose-bumpy in my little office. D'oh.