I feel like shit, and seem to have entirely lost my sense of humour. And my appetite.When Max finally wakes up, he staggers into the kitchen and cooks an enormous fry-up, which seems to remove any trace of a hangover. There is no justice. I can’t face eating a thing.I’m still feeling sick when the doorbell rings. It is Alex, Ellen’s toy-boy-in-chief, who says he wants his jacket back. Apparently, Connie picked his up by mistake during our hasty escape from the party last night.He sounds less than happy to have discovered that he is now the not-so-proud possessor of Max’s Primark jacket, while there’s a crumpled Armani version down the side of our sofa. They don’t look any different to me, though I don’t say so, as provoking Alex is probably a bad idea. I’ve got a feeling Ellen met him at kick-boxing or something equally violent, and he already seems quite cross enough by the time he throws the jacket onto the back seat of his car and slams the door.He’s still revving the engine like a maniac when Max comes into the hallway to see where I’ve got to.
What do You think about Diary Of An Unsmug Married?
