It's Wednesday afternoon, and I feel like death...
"And why is that?", I hear you ask. Perhaps the hangover induced by drinking too much and not getting back to my lovely safe, dark (key word, that one) hotel room until 4.30 in the morning is the clue. It all started with the seemingly harmless sentence, "You're coming back to Santacruz with us, Mark.". No explanation as to why, but then, with my family, you learn not to ask too many questions.
In Santacruz, I am informed that I'm off for a night out with Sean (my cousin, who's getting married tomorrow), the rest of the cousins, as well as friends and family. Needless to say, given that most of them are ten years younger than me, there was drinking and clubbing involved, although eight hours of it was a little more than my delicate constitution can handle. It was a lot of fun though, even if I'm paying for it now...
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