You know the kind. A glass of wine, rather than a bottle too many.
The sort you can walk off on your commute, before getting anywhere near your desk. Or pop in to Greggs and Mackie Ds and vanquish with one salty, greasy bite.
No headache, no impact – just a sense. A feeling.
But now it’s different. Now there is no commute, no lurid pink meat to soak up the juices.
The fug is fought with coffee and YouTube channelled exercise.
So I am giving it a bit of consideration. Not dramatic. No drama. I am just happy to leave the half hangovers to the half weekends. To leave the sluggish nature of a morning to my arthritis, or being locked down for the foreseeable future.
To a time when the half hangovers will be gone, as we bound from our houses and return home with the mother, father, brother and sister of all earth shattering hangovers. To taste freedom, and a freshly poured pint.
At least we have that to look forward to!
Let’s see how long it lasts.