Rising hurriedly from her slumber, dislodging a tumbler of water in her haste, Britain reached for the light and dimmed it. She'd drunk too much last night and had the headache to show for it.
Grabbing her drabbest, greyest sweater from the floor she slipped it over her head as she made an awkward path to the bathroom.
Someone had been sick in her sink and hadn't made any effort to wash it away. Her stomach began to lurch at the sight but she grit her teeth and dealt with it.
Perched on the edge of the bath Britain rubbed her temples as her brain continued to pulse. Surely she'd not drunk that much. Okay, she admitted, there had been the vodka and champagne affair but she'd only one... or two.
Massaging her neck she pondered heading back to bed. She hadn't felt this rough for a long time. In fact there had only been... Britain stood and faced the mirror. Sticking out her tongue, she frowned at its greyish green coating.
Suddenly last night hit her like a wave. Visions of alcohol, dancing and swirling lights... lights and then... there had been a kiss. She forced her aching brain to remember. Made it drag up the image it was trying so hard to deny her.
Winter. She had embraced Winter in her drunken stupor and the realisation made her groan. This had happened before a few years ago and she'd woken up feeling exactly the same way. This wasn't a hangover, this was something else.
Her reflection shock its head reproachfully at her. When will you ever learn, it said.
"I know. I've been a fool," she whispered, "But she has the most beautiful eyes."
Mavis Beacon was teaching me to type again last night. I spent a good two hours under her tutelage and yet she still hasn't taught me capital letters! I'm trying very hard not to slip back into my old way of typing but it's bloody difficult to unlearn twenty years.
In other news: I think I've left it too late to get myself the flu vaccine. If the current headache and general grogginess are anything to go by I'm well on my way to a fine dose of 'the good stuff'. Fantastic!