It's been the most tiring weekend in recent history, and here's what really happened.

Friday night was the work Christmas party. I booked a room at the hotel where the party was taking place, it was a good idea considering there was the very real prospect of alcohol. Chris Light was staying in my room also, which was a good plan for the both of us.

So the evening itself was very good indeed. 3 bottles of red wine were consumed by yours truly, along with a fair cop of whiskey and beers. Myself, Marc, Bruno and Jay dressed up as Santa Claus and entertained our co-workers, it went down a right treat. I can't remember what time we got to bed, but I do know that when I awoke my head was throbbing with anger. I couldn't move for a long time, and I was rather ill, but at around 11am we managed to pack up our stuff and, against my better judgement, we got in my car.

I drove to Steve's and felt rough on his reclining chair. Then I dropped Chris off home and fought off the constant threat of vomiting as I made my way home. Once home I lounged around feeling sorry for myself. I managed to eat some crumpets a bit later on, after a lot of milk and Nurofen, then I went to bed for a few hours.

When I woke up at 7pm on Saturday evening, I had a shower and got dressed. We went for a curry, my family and I. It was much needed, fuel for the long night ahead. After the meal I went round to Jay's house to watch the Boxing. I got there at 1am, and the fight didn't start until 5am. It was good though. Steve came round, as well as Bruno. Friends, yo.

I got home at 6:30am this morning. I slept until 2pm, which was rather anti-social, but I was really fucking tired, man. And I was still hungover. In fact I'm still hanging, and it's 10pm.

Today I was cleaning out some stuff in my room and I came across loads of blasts from the past. First of all there were loads of school books with messages from my old school friends plastered all over them. This made me feel a bit weird, and quite old. I pressed on and came across a dictaphone that I had been looking for for ages. I listened to some of the stuff and in between the recorded guitar playing and whatnot, there was a really strange "interview" with the crazy psycho bitch who kicked me in the nuts in my first year of uni. It made me quite angry because I must have been really drunk at the time and she recorded a bizarre interrogation, asking me how I felt about her. Bear in mind this was a few days after we first started going out. This discovery made me feel really weird, and not at all pleased really.

Finally I came across a box of letters and pages torn from refill pads. On the pages were loads of lyrics that I had written at various points over what must have been a four year span. Musical gold, I hope. The letters were from a few pen-pals that I used to correspond with. This particular discovery made my head spin. I felt really bad because we had lost contact along the way, but it was actually quite nice to find these letters. They were from 8 years ago, when I was only 15 years old. I keep trying to think about all the stuff that's happened since then, but it makes my head ache. I think I found the pen-pal on Facebook, so I sent her a message and am now wondering if she'll reply. It would be very good, but very strange.

Here we go.