So Tuesday marked a couple of milestones for me.
1) It was the end of my firth month not smoking.
2) I got truely and utterly hammered at a work party - so much so that the last memory I have is of falling over on the underground train, and being helped into a seat by a fat bloke with a beard and a beige ski jacket.
On waking up with the mother of all hangovers I found a receipt for a burger king, and my suit hanging very neatly on a hanger (something I rarely do when getting home on a normal day).
But despite a head that felt like it would explode, I had fresh lungs - I did not even have one puff.