I walk and it is grape dark and I am so drunk on moonshine I see stars over London.
I've never been one to suffer from hangovers so something has changed. Stiff bones and increase of neck clicks. My bus bruise from last night is blossoming. Plate of watercress and tzatziki followed by many many biscuits as a test cure. Late to work due to an accident on the Old Street roundabout. Jogged from Shoreditch. I sweated past scattered bike helmets and ballet pumps in the road...
All this after an anthology launch in a basement of gloaming light/dark. Red room, canned Red Stripe, burning oils, high on aromatics, hearing disembodied voices float over heads, woozy poetry. Magic wine, refill and refill of red. Oh, and pastel cupcakes. Singing along to a man and his guitar:
If you're going home in a London ambulance, I'm going home in a London ambulance too.