A WOMAN in her early forties with a raging hangover is mortified by the pitiful amount of alcohol that brought it on.
Shuddering, queasy mess Emma Howard quickly tallied what she drank yesterday evening and concluded that back in the day it would not have counted as pre-drinks.
She said: “Three glasses of house white in the sunshine. Not massive glasses. But I don’t remember going to bed and I was scrabbling for paracetamol in the bathroom at 5am, trying very hard not to puke.
“When did I become such a lightweight? Four and a half units, maybe six? That’s what I’d knock back to sober up. The ravages of time are cruel indeed.
“I had a meal last night and everything but that doesn’t seem to have softened the blow. Is this me done with drinking for good, or should I go on a bender to build up my tolerance? Even though thinking about it makes me retch?
“No, that’s me in managed decline now. Before long a single gin and tonic will be enough to write me off for the next day. Better to bow out of drinking before I’m not even able to humiliate myself any longer.“
