In Debenhams Sally finds a really pretty top and I get a black linen skirt with white embroidery. Every step now is an effort though, I feel grim. How annoying is this, I've been looking forward to Sally's visit for ages and now clearly life is catching up on me.
Sally wisely takes me for a gentle lunch, crap I must be ill, it's all I can do to force myself to eat a ham sandwich. Some paracetamol seems to help though and after an unrushed break, I start to feel a bit better and we push on.
It's Stuart's birthday today and I need to find him a birthday present. Trouble is I feel like crap and I'm really struggling for inspiration.
In Paperchase we find a figurine and prayer card of St Vivian - patron saint of hangovers. Actually on closer inspection once home I see he's actually patron saint of torture victims and hangovers, which might rather give one an unwelcome sense of perspective when daring to trouble him for help for self-induced morning-after symptoms: "errr...hi St Vivian...I appreciate you probably already have a lot on your plate trying to help those having their fingernails ripped out and electrodes stuck in places I wouldn't want to think about...but I had a dodgy pint (or 12) last night and errr could really do with your help regarding my pounding head...".
So with all other leads of iPod accessories and so forth having come to nought, I decide on St Vivian and a bottle of single malt.
As we go in search of the latter, we try one last shop for one of the other ideas I had. It doesn't have what I was looking for, but we do find this rather excellent T'shirt in a lovely dark green.
Pushing the boat out for some extra colour letters, I now have the tools to create Stuart a truly individual and changeable present.
.It feels a bit dangerous to buy a T-shirt without the intended wearer present to try it on for size, but they say it can be brought back if necessary. Which is great, but rather annoying to get a present that doesn't work. So, whilst Sally pops in to Per Una in Marks, I dash back to Next and hold the T'shirt up against the shirt Karen bought for Stu the other week, which fitted well. The Alpha shirt is just a touch bigger, so depending on the cut/shape, should hopefully be fine.
My strength is fading fast again and we get a cab home with just a short turn around time to take some more pain-killer (me only), change and write cards etc before heading to the curry house for Stuart's birthday.
Sally bless her helps me play around with packs of tiny velcro letters to create a suitable message, but the little blighters get everywhere and I suspect I may still be finding stray letters in weeks to come.
The paracetamol is doing its job again, but somehow I suspect I won't be up for going on for the Chorlton drinking tour, post-curry. We take two pairs of keys just in case.
It's good to see folk I know, but a little tricky for Sally, who only knows a few folk and the way it works out, they end up at the other end of a long table. The food is good though (when it arrives, let's not talk about the service eh...), but by the time people are finishing up, I'm feeling pretty grim with a rising temperature and aches from head to toe.
So Sally, deciding she could also do with an early night takes me home and we each curl up on a sofa to watch Little Miss Sunshine.
The fire is belting out heat (which explains Sally's dozing off at points) and yet beneath the fleece throw, I'm simultaneously burning up and shivering. This is not good. I'm a crap hostess, but I can't fight this any longer and head to bed.
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