The morning after...
I am a bit tender this morning. The party started just before 6pm and went on until 1am. Kestrel Super cans litter my study/bedroom. I remember saying at one stage that the ganga was good shit. There were times when I found that communication was getting through and being received, it seemed as though we had gone to another level. I have forgotten how many levels of consciousness there are.
Earlier on in the afternoon I twisted my ankle on the stairs rushing down to catch the tatters so they could remove the two bicycles laying around in the dining room. By the end of the party I was hobbling around like a war veteran. I expected to be in a wheelchair this morning, but the disability appears to have subsided somewhat. And I am not in too much pain. I will see how I feel when Rocky has had his morning walk.
I just about recall the writhing about on the dining room floor, clothes discarded and old and young flesh meeting and there was mention about me needing a shave. I don't think I was quite date raped. That's enough of that.
When the fog clears a bit more, I'll be back and I may have some work to do before, I suspect, another party tonight.
A mixture of law, politics, autobiography and humour. Once described as "The Devilish Advocate" (Guardian), I do have the ability to provoke a response. Sometimes it comes from someone who uses a thought process, and sometimes from jerks usually associated with the knee.
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