The roast

I shall begin by correcting my last post. The plastic bottle which was thrown at the Wind Turbine was infact filled with orange squash. Happy now Heather? This friday I was if anything more drunk than last week, and although I woke up feeling no guilt, regret or shame, as memories started randomly popping into my mind this soon changed. Even worse is the fact I still dont remember some stuff. For instance I still don't know why I was slapped in the face, or the conversation about peanut butter, but I do now vaguely recall throwing crisps down someones bum cleavage. The best thing about the weekend was definately the roast, which was so good I don't think I said one word while I was eating it. Thank you Sarah, thank you Heather. It was well worth getting whipped with towels for.