Monday arrived and my body was still broken, battered and aching, on the plus side though my ribs hurt from laughing, the banter and photos of the weekend were being shared and it was obvious that AB had certainly enjoyed his Stag Weekend. I always guess deep down knew he would but there was that part of me that thought my pain and disability would bring a dampner on the events and spoil things for everyone. It certainly didn’t and everyone was great from getting drinks and food, to dressing and taking piss the weekend was perfect.
How stupid I was yet again, those who hadn’t met me very often quickly understood my gutter level humour, sarcasm and openness to laugh at myself and we all got on really well. It was totally worth the spike I expected and I have some fantastic memories. I also have very little recollection of the fall out of the EU and England v Iceland so my pain bubble tells me none of it happened. I also just had this picture of me shared by chef and it tells you all you need to know, burning, contemplation and a black coffee, I know my limits and my meds and nobody minded one bit