22/02/2014 | by tristan
Wake up, face down on your bed, still in your ski clothes, with a lump of chewing gum in your bum crack. Wearily recall leaving all of your kit with a ‘friend’ behind the bar, whose name escapes you completely. Wonder why your feet are black and soaking, then remember running the three mile journey home in your socks, because your snowboard boots were hurting.
Vomit bountifully into the bin next to your bed, before rolling over and languidly taking in, to your horror, the time. Haul your vinegary body upright, put some shoes on and drag yourself to work, swearing earnestly never to do it again. Until next week.