It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve had even a slither of hangover. Maybe partly because the last one was so brutal and I couldn’t comprehend that happening again for quite some time. This time around I was treated to a whole new breed of hangover: the slow-burner. I woke up after only a few hours sleep feeling not TOO bad, albeit groggy and slightly confused about the time/day/my name. The slow-burning hangover is not your friend. It tricks you into going outside and using the District Line and then basically floors you by 5pm.
Event: Wine and cheese night, because wine and cheese
Venue: Home, the kitchen to be exact
Night plan: Basically, just drink nice wine, eat nice cheese, talk about life and lots of general rubbish until about midnight or the last tube
Run Down: Friends arrived about 7:45. The first few hours of the night involved mainly over-cooking a Camembert, eating a whole block of chilli cheddar and deciding the Brie looked too soggy for any action. I managed to polish off a whole bottle of red despite swearing blind I would save some. Accidents happen. By the time 11 came about, the house mascot- a multicoloured chicken with one eye and no legs, was being thrown around the kitchen, Gangster’s Paradise was playing and there were bread crumbs EVERYWHERE. One friend ducked out just after midnight to catch the tube and things looked to be winding down…
Five and a half hours later the strobe light was on, Alanis Morissette- Ironic was blasting from some speakers and one of my old uni lecturers was drinking wine in the hall (no idea). Civilised night-in gone massively wrong (or right). Any attempt to salvage a fairly tame night was probably lost when Toto- Africa came on in drum and bass form.
Food: Cheese, obviously, a few grapes and some home made cheese and chilli twists. A failed chicken burger and equally failed curry the next day with some satsumas forced down for the vitamin goodness.
The hangover: Initially, not that bad. The epically late night didn’t help much but general feelings first thing were tired and a bit sick, nothing too heavy. Shower, post office chores and cleaning up feathers/wine bottles happened without too much trouble. Then the hunger hit. So much extreme hunger. Me and one friend tried eating chicken burgers but could manage about a bite. Fake hunger. Sick hunger. The day got progressively worse. A feeling like every movement was a hardship started about 3pm. Visiting my sister ended in a lengthy nap on the sofa before declaring I couldn’t move or eat. So much fatigue, so much aching and massive loss of voice from rapping aggressively to Eminem. The whole thing peaked at about 7pm. SO LATE. The feeling that something bad is slowly creeping up on you and the realisation you can’t master stairs don’t make for a great combo. Also one bottle of wine probably spilled over to a bit more, so I deserve whatever I got. This was a justified hangover, equal amounts of suffering for equal amounts of drinking.
The weirdest part of this hangover was the realisation with my housemates that the night played out over 10 HOURS. Longer than a day at work. The power of wine and Spotify.
Score: 6/10- I’ve had much worse, but slow-burning hangovers are quite brutal