I woke up in the middle of the night last night, Nat next to me sleeping. Sweating like Robbie Savage round a dictionary and utterly delirious from lack of sleep and the past 8 days' gluttony, I'd been in and out of dreams; being dropped from the World Cup squad for debauchery and being hunted by the police for anti-sobriety related activities.
I reached out to the bedside table for a seemingly life-extending gulp. I was absolutely gutted to find that it wasn't an ice cold beer. 45 minutes later, it was time to get up for work.
What a time in Nerja, what a level of consumption in my last days of my twenties, what a time to realise that the same-old reality was about to hit hard.
I reached out to the bedside table for a seemingly life-extending gulp. I was absolutely gutted to find that it wasn't an ice cold beer. 45 minutes later, it was time to get up for work.
What a time in Nerja, what a level of consumption in my last days of my twenties, what a time to realise that the same-old reality was about to hit hard.
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