A catastrophic weekend

Having been very hyper at work all day on Friday, we headed off to the pub. I'd managed to get out of a Knowledge Management exercise, so I could leave at six. I headed up to the top floor where the boys were playing cricket, and cajoled them into leaving. I think they would have been content to play all night- or at least until there was a confirmed winner, anyway.

At the pub, we started on the wine. And then the spirits. And then more wine... By about 11 we were all completely pissed. There was only three of us at this point, and to remain upright we were all leaning against each other. T had previously gone to a dinner party, but he came back and we proceeded to get even more drunk.

Things that I did in the pub:

- shout abuse at the barman
- lose my debit card
- find my debit card
- talk non stop in German for no particular reason
- take blurry pictures on my phone
- smoke a lot
- kiss my friend
- call T 'Paddington' even though I know he hates it
- chat to an Irish guy and insult his mates girlfriend
- kiss aforementioned Irish guy
- turn down offer of a shag from the Irish guy, telling him to go home
- drunkenly text some random I'd met online and invite him out
- fall over a bar stool

Once we'd finally been thrown out, I realised that the random guy I'd only met online had actually come to the pub. The others decided to go home. Actually, they didn't all want to go home, but as she was only one, and she was marginally more pissed than the rest of us, she was dragged off. I decided that it would be a really good idea to carry on drinking.

The random guy and I walked down to Elephant and waited for a bus. For some reason that is unknown to me, we then took a cab. I left my work folder in the taxi by accident but decided I couldn't be bothered to worry about it. We went to the Fridge bar, where I instantly got in a bad mood.

I managed to find a free chair for myself. By this point I was feeling quite selfish and decided not to find one for the random, even though he was at the bar paying for my drink. After ten minutes or so, the random went to the loo, and I did a runner. I grabbed my stuff and legged it out of the door, and put my phone on silent so it wouldn't annoy me. I looked around and realised that I was in Brixton.

No worries, I thought to myself. I can walk home from here.

I crossed the road and started walking down towards mine. After about ten steps I started crying, and I proceeded to cry most of the way home. About two minutes into my journey I met another random guy who took pity on me. He told me that he could see I was sad, and that what I was doing was dangerous. He told me he'd been in my position once, miserable and lonely, and that drinking didn't make it any better.

He walked me half the way home.

By the time he left me to walk down the Dulwich Road myself, I had sobered up enough to know that if I didn't stick to the main road, I would get lost. I was still crying. As I got closer to home, the hunger kicked in. The only course of action was to go to the garage and buy a packet of Galaxy Minstrels.

I finally got home, and attempted to be quiet. Once in my room, I threw my clothes off and fell pretty instantly asleep.

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling awful. I hadn't managed to eat the Minstrels, and they were sitting on my pillow, along with a packet of crisps I had clearly bought too. My housemate knocked on the door, and I put on my comfiest clothes and went to the kitchen. She was very sweet. She told me about her date, and made me feel a lot better. She told me that I wasn't alone in doing stupid things like that, and that she'd done similar when she'd split up with her ex.

Having drunk four glasses of water, I went back to bed and plugged in my phone, so I could send some messages. Then I went straight back to sleep.

At around 20:00 I woke up- forced awake by my hunger. I went to the living room and watched tv. Mindless television was just what I needed. Eventually the acidic feeling in my brain lifted enough for me to go to the kitchen and make the biggest plate of food ever.

I was laughed at, eating spaghetti. My housemate said she had never seen such a look of concentration.

I made the mistake of staying up too late. I watched Taxi Driver, and then went to my room and watched Lilja 4-ever. That was a far bigger mistake than I envisaged, as- as always with that film- I started crying and crying. Eventually I cried myself to sleep.

My ex met me in Brixton at 4 on Sunday. The atmosphere was so icy, the weather felt almost tropical in comparison. It rounded off a terrible weekend quite appropriately. I think it was one of the saddest experiences ever.