My eyes blear open and sickness is the first thing I am aware of. Lots of sickness and a terrible throbbing headache.
As soon as I am capable of thought, it takes a while for me to get passed how incredibly crap I feel, and my drunken sleep may as well have been a coma, I try to piece together the events of last night, I don't quite trust my memory, there are gaps, and my hangover is slowing me down.
I recognise the headboard-less bed I'm in as Damon's, and as I feel him stir behind me I realise he's still here, tucked up with me under his Chelsea football team quilt.
Well duh, where else would he be? It's his frickin' room. But I've no idea what time it is and...
Oh s**t, yes. Now everything starts filtering back.
Some people had left. Dave, and Mat I think..and then we'd come up t
