Well, it is a Sunday evening, and the hangover has just about abated. Lunch followed by an evening out in Wellington was the reason behind the exceptionally sore head this morning.
I have come to the conclusion that I a getting too old to mix drinks the way we did last night. It is neither big, nor clever. The main reason for this was a cocktail bar called Motel (their website being as random and funky as the bar itself). I am convinced that this place is somewhere that you could only find drunk, and that in the hours of daylight the place doesn't even exist. A secret knock on a metal door behind a skip bin allowed you access to this place, up a very steep flight of barren stairs and then your in this opulent & well stocked bar. One of my fellow drinker was complaining of heartburn and indigestion (possibly caused by the 5 pints of cider and 3 of beer that had preceded our arrival), so the ever handy barman knocked up a concoction of what we can only believe to be distilled deer. It worked. But it was the foulest drink known to mankind. Unfortunately we then had the second most filthy cocktail in the world....Champagne and Absinthe.....never try it, trust me.
So with all that drink, a good friendly chat with a Marxist, some dodgy whipping action, a happy slap following Burger King and waking up surrounded by thousands of tiny war planes and tanks; it was a top night out.
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