Why, oh why do I do it ?

A lads get-together last night in The Fox.
A good turnout from the old football team, 20 or so old faces to catch up with - some looking distictly older than others even though we're all the same age, 50, and one looking spookily still only 30 years old, we suspect surgery but then again when he was 18 he always looked new-born.

Some divorced, some geting divorced, most with offspring, a few with grand-offspring, these gatherings happen too infrequently given that several of them live in other parts of the country now and one lives in Chicago, it was because he was visiting his parents here that last nights gathering was called for - his accent after 20 years in the windy city sounds plain daft.

And I drank too much beer.
And so 4.30am saw me hockling down the big white telephone, wondering why that burger I had yesterday lunchtime wasn't at all properly digested yet.

Why do I do it ?
I know I can't drink alcohol in quantity now
I know my limit is two pints of pub beer.
I know hangovers ensue if I drink even one canned beer.

But on New years Eve in the same pub I managed five pints with no ill effects.
So last night I had six pints.

No drunkeness, no staggering about, no slurred speach, I was fine.
Went to bed just after midnight, no spinning room.
4am awaken with the certain feeling that the liver has packed up and gone home, no more alcohol processing tonight old love, and we've still got a couple of pints in the stomach causing havoc.
The brain starts nagging, "you've got to get rid of whats left, I'll make your head hell in the morning if you don't"
And so you lie there and think "it'l be alright, I'll turn over and go back to sleep", and you turn over and it all sloshes from one side of your stomach to the other and the brain nudges you awake again and gives you one last warning, "get rid now or I'll make you do it"
And still you resist, but it won't settle.
And after 20 minutes of concentrating and willing it to go away, suddenly the alarms go off and you get the ten second warning to make it to the bathroom.
Muscles that you never knew you had project the unwanted stomach contents out into the pan and all you can do is crouch there and wait for it to stop, three and four times it repeats until surely there's nothing left.
And after it stops you're left exhausted, snot running out of every orifice on your face, even your eyes, but it suddenly feels much better, and you turn to an imaginary person in your head and tell them "I feel much better for that".

A hearty breakfast, lots of strong black filter coffee and I'm just hunky-dory this morning.

Why do I do it though ?