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Jeffery Brakelight Breezes Through Life, Part 4
Cheating Charlotte?
“New year, new me,” I said, staring myself straight in the eye in the bathroom mirror. The proclamation was issued with a hint of irony because at that moment I was in the grip of a robust hangover. I was as queasy as Dracula rushing to his coffin when the sun was coming up. It was New Year’s Day, you see, and I had arrived home at about three in the morning, having seen in the new year at the Feathers.
I guzzled down a brace of fizzy tablets dissolved in water, which I hoped would counteract the effects of the alcohol I had guzzled down the previous night. During that revelry, my old friend, and occasional drinking partner, Silas ‘Sporty’ Porter introduced me to a new drink, the rum snatch. I tried one and told him I wasn’t keen, but he assured me I’d soon get a taste for it. After that introduction, almost every time I turned around there was a freshly poured one in front of me. I think the word that best describes my condition on the walk home (for who can get a taxi in the early hours of New Year’s Day?) is sozzled. And, as you may be aware, a rum hangover is hard to beat.
Yet, despite my poorly condition, I had to brace up, because Sporty was coming over as we were going to embark upon our annual New Year’s Day pub crawl, during which all of the local bars would be packed…
