It was my birthday yesterday but I was in Glasgow all day at a course and when I got back we'd arranged to go to the Sheep's Heid at Duddingston to meet with a few Portie runners to mark the last championship race (Tinto). We spoke about running continuously for several hours during which time I sunk a couple of pints of Black Sheep and a couple of glasses of red wine. I don't know what Peter found to drink but he was the India Rubber man by the time we got home and I'll draw a veil over his antics. Paint your own picture of groaning and sleeping with a bucket by the bed. By this time I'd convinced myself he must have the winter vomiting bug because we really hadn't drunk all that much. The fact that it stopped proved otherwise though. I hoped to be feeling okay today but after getting up and having breakfast at 10 this morning I went back to bed at 11 and have crawled back out now just in time to see the last rays of sunlight set on the world for another day. And it looks like it was a lovely day too. A curse on drinking for ever! Maybe manage a wee run later.