This is a brief cautionary and factual tale of derring-do.
So off I go to a wedding which is attended by my parents and various members of my extended family - all of whom are grown ups in the proper sense. And we celebrate the happy couple's marriage in a truly joyful way and then progress to the golf club to toast their happiness and take part in a conga line. And there is laughter and wine and dancing and all is fabulous until home time when I realise I'm rather drunk and have to be helped to the car by somebody who thinks you drink too much if you have a wine with dinner. Oh dear.
It turns out (with the benefit of hindsight obviously) that one vegemite sandwich, one honey sandwich, two cheese sticks and a muesli bar were not sufficiently filling as my entire day's food intake before drinking liberal amounts of chardonnay. Especially after the 'breeding years' where my alcohol intake has been dictated by pregnancy, breastfeeding and small people. I was distinctly out of practice.
I think it fair to say that if one is going to launch oneself back into the world of wedding drinking one should not choose a night where your husband is dead sober and your parents are witness to it all.
Though it was a great wedding and my husband can see the funny side of of it. Now.
And if it's any consolation - on Sunday I felt as well as I deserved to feel. Which is to say death would have been preferable for most of the morning.
I'd like to say lesson learned but I'm unsure that would be entirely true. Truth.