Last night, this morning

Last night I went out and got well and truly hammered. I was invited to a leaving do with my friend CJ and after promising to be there at 9pm we finally arrived, drunk and disorderly at 11pm, after drinking cider in the local and sherry in the Polish club (of which we are now members, in spite of lack of Polish-ness).

I pulled in the party venue. It wasn't very exciting. A man from Chester with a missing bottom tooth told me he was 26 and I said he was 45 if he was a day. Apparently, that was a turn on and the next thing I know, he asks for my number. I replied: "I have a husband! And a child!", as though he should have seen the imaginary neon sign flashing above my head which said as much. He told me my husband was the luckiest man alive. I told him that he hadn't met my husband and that I was the luckiest woman alive. Matt enjoyed that part of the story even though I told him at 2am when I rolled in legless and woke him up by being naughty (this always happens when I am drunk).

So it was with a legendary hangover that I crawled to Pizza Express for a family lunch at 12.15pm. I think Eliott had a secondary hangover as he melted down when the rest of the family arrived. The mere sight of a Bob The Builder balloon caused an almighty tantrum that resulted in me crawling back home with him, pizza-less and on the verge of vomming in the street.

After a long nap and a viewing of Calamity Jane he cheered right up and ran around the house in his sweater and nappy shouting "Bob!" whilst joyfully wielding the previously heinous balloon. I hid on the sofa with a cushion on my head.

You can see why a well-known parenting magazine have been commissioning me to write features can't you?