Two days in the valley

I’ve had a strange weekend. Way too much to drink at Dom’s birthday party on Friday night – lots of white wine and my first B52 for many a year led to some embarrassing ironic dancing to dreadful house tunes in a club called either Dusk or Dust – sadly I’m not sure the irony was visible outside my brain.

Saturday was consequently hungover, exhausted and over-emotional. I went for lunch with a friend in Waterloo and spotted Kevin McCloud of Channel 4’s Grand Designs fame – he was filming upstairs in The Cut. My friend and I agreed about boys and bickered about religion and absolute truth. Saturday night was spent in deep self-pity. The predicted highlight was ITV’s Boybands: The Real Story which began at 21:40 – but I fell asleep at 21.43 and woke up much later having missed the whole programme, with my glasses still on and my Hollywood chewing gum still in my mouth. Nice.

Sunday was my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary. Ten minutes before we had to leave for the venue, I was in my nightie in a cloud of negativity, wondering whether I’d be able to keep it together for the day – but the strength came from above or the side or below or somewhere and I made it through to 11pm without any outbursts. The speech I’d written went really well which was a relief. And my parents had a blast which is the main thing.

This morning, in a mirror image of Saturday, I was hungover, exhausted and over-emotional. I cried on public transport and in desperation had to use my Specsavers complimentary glasses cleaning cloth as a handkerchief which was quite a low point. But my friends have been lovely on email and I feel ready to face the evening: home, my mother’s lamb kebabs and an early night in front of Britain’s Next Top Model which I can watch without guilt for once as my friend Harry will be making an appearance. Swings and roundabouts, life is a rollercoaster, rough and smooth, time’s the greatest healer, this too shall pass, the only way is up etc. etc.