I'm in an airport. And I'm hungover. Hence the title of this post. I didn't think I was going to make it to the airport on time because of the hangover. I pulled a classic roll-over-and-switch-both-alarms-off this morning at 8. I woke up an hour and fifteen minutes later in a Hugh Grant style fuck-fuck-fuck moment. No hookers though. Shame. Off to a Sunday lunch upon landing, seeing loads of people for the first time in ages. Wicked. Bring it on. Pint o' Pride please mate. Ugh.