sunday morning was, not so good.
as morning light dragged me back to a world too real for me to deal with, i struggled against the blankets, they were too hot.
i fought against the noise that cracked a gap in my skull and pushed its way though.
i winced as needles and red hot pokers stabbed at my feet.
i shivered against the cold and found the blankets once again and tried my very best to disappear beneath them.
i shut my eyes and closed my mind and squeezed my entire body small enough not to feel or hear or see anything.
and i stayed like that until sleep took mercy on my pathetic form and pulled me back under, to a land of nothingness.
when afternoon stomped into the room i ignored it.
when 1pm banged on my window i told it to go away.
but, sometime later, when 2pm sighed at me and rolled its eyes i finally found the strength. i lazed on the sofa, i moped in front of the fridge and as i was about to return to the safety of my bed i felt like slapping myself.
i hate being hungover.
but i hate loosing a day to it even more.
so off i went.
i drank my body weight in water, put on my most comfortable shoes and began the walk from my flat down to Mitcheldean, where i had left my car the night before.
here's my woodland journey.
my little walk was beautiful and swept my head of all its fuzziness.
i did get a little bit scared when i was in the middle of the woods, all by myself and really really thought i heard something and when got slightly convinced it was pixies planning to take me away...
but it's ok, the pixies only wanted to chat.
upon reaching my car i drove over to my parents and was greeted with yummy soup. (the mothers cure for everything.)
never let the hangover beat you.