Hardbitten, hardboiled, but certainly not hung-over

One does not use the h-word on a weekday morning (“hung-over”), not even in combination with an adjective such as “mildly”.

One speaks of “feeling a trifle dehydrated”, “a drink too many”, “soup for lunch”, and perhaps “sleeping under a heavy quilt was a mistake”.

Nothing aspirin and black coffee for breakfast can’t fix.

So yes, having stopped at Young & Jackson’s Chloe’s bar for dinner again (fantastic food actually, but very rich), I was rather late to my final blogger Melbourne meetup, and perhaps a little loud and boisterous on arrival.

I may have dominated conversation to the exclusion of others in my Bob-Hope-entertaining-the-troops mode. Ooops.

Anyway, this week’s Naylor is up:

“ … it didn’t look good – grown men don’t just deliberately walk out in front of cars. Hard thing to explain to a jury.”

My thoughts flickered back to the night, headlights slewing across the dark tarmac, the body sprawled like a broken bird. Me, walking over in desperate misplaced hope, to ask if he was all right. Running back to scrabble under the car seats to find where my mobile had ricocheted to rest. Then beginning the first stretch of waiting until the blue and red lights and white cars arrived.

I’m off in search of more coffee.