Days 165, 166, 167 and 168

So after I had clearly stated that end of uni shenanigans were almost over, i accidently got so drunk Wednesday night that I could not move from my bed of pain (the sofa) all Thursday. Long Island Ice Tea was this time the culprit, and long time was my hangover. Im getting too old for all this. I limped home battered and bruised and clutching a McDonalds on Saturday. Mam and Dad have added one of those jazzy memory foam mattresses to my bed, and it would be rude not to spend some time with it while I recover my strength I reasoned. Today though I was full of focus, and got up at 8.30am (that new bed is so hard to say goodbye to, mostly because I had sunk so far into it I was unsure whether I would be able to physically get out of it without assistance) Mam insisted I take the dog, so with much whining - from me - and even some growling - again from me - I set off. British weather being what it has lately the walkway was like a river in some places, but I waded on. My feet were wet, and the weather was hot and damp, I felt like I was hiking through the Amazon rainforest, but I stomped on. Te dog pushed me over in his excitement to try and jump on a cyclist, but I restrained him, got up (cursed him) and carried on. By the end of the 8 miles my feet were no wetter than the rest of me such was my signature sweating today, but I did it, 8 miles in 2 hours. Brian and Steve would be proud, and in the movie Scarlett would look much more jaunty than me im sure, but I did it, even with that infernal dog.