The Good Weekend

I seem to recall something of last night's revelry. There were arguments about religion and politics and such. I distinctly remember my own contributions as having soared in clarity and vision as the evening wore on and as the wine bottles were progressively dispatched.

Some one appears to have drilled small holes in my skull during the night. Otherwise I cannot explain this terrible headache and all of the blurred vision. Some people clearly can't lose arguments without the need to exact petty revenge, it seems.

Ooooh. Would all of those birds out there please keep it down a little. As it's Sunday morning, I am in the process of attempting to read the Sydney Morning Herald's "Good Weekend" supplement. My $6.50 reading glasses from "Sam's Warehouse" lie posing on the contents page - ready to burst into action.