10am - I peel back my moth eaten eye curtains;

recoil from brash bright light; fight to pull my

security blanket back over my lead head and

snuggle into the comfort of my bed. As the room

around me spins like a merry-go-round (minus the

merry), my head feels so heavy. Suddenly conscious

my tongue is a prune – I long for the tap, I sit up too soon.

The ceiling crashes down, the walls cave in and magnified

echoes of last night's din throw me back under cover,

cocooned in my den - start thinking never drinking again!