W
ell, what a weekend!Firstly, I had an ALL OVER body massage at the clarins stand ( which was nearly not the only thing that was standing i can tell you!). Very enjoyable, all thanks to the lovely Mrs. Dog , who had accumulated the time on her " time for me " card. ( expensive loyalty card that you have to spend fortunes on ).
1 hour later, I emerged from the booth, that laid back, i thought I had become Bob Marley for a minute. 
Which was just as well, ( that I was feeling laid back that is , not being Bob Marley ) as the usual PMT (pre match tension ) had set in before the England / Paraguay match.
I have to confess here to being an embryo chav, as we are the only ones in our road to have an England flag hanging out of the window!
Anyway 1 match,1 goal to the Engerland ,three points and 6 pints of Stella later , I am happy as larry and as pissed as a shit.
Then it was back to our house where I fell asleep for 6 hours, thereby missing all the other footy that was on, and Dr. Who… Tits!
The next morning brought sunshine, a thumping headache, and an early start as we had tickets to go the the British Grand Prix at Silverstone…..
Corporate tickets…hospitality tickets!!!
Ho yus vicar sergeant… open bar…
Oh dear oh dear. 
Luckily for me, and my license Mrs.Dog was driving, so the die was cast…..
We got there about 8.45 am after an hours drive, to a welcome of bacon & sausage butties, tea , coffee, and orange juice.
"Where’s the facking bar?" I asked of the friendly waiter, a Polish gent called christop, as I found out later.
" I’m sorry sir, its not open until 10.30am" .
Fuck
However, and happily I might add, I was not the only one of our party to be anxious to get my neck round some champers, and at 10.30am on the dot, copius bottles of Mums ( thats the brand, not MY mums ) champers were duly cracked open, and the alcohol fest began.
I have since been informed that the tickets are worth about a grand, well I tell thee, I must have consumed the better part of at least 4 bottles of the fizzy white stuff.
Plus white wine, plus Pimms & lemonade.
Boy I was pissed.
I spent most of the time there talking to a guy I have known for years, 25 in fact, but have never met before, and his wife Natasha, and her friend Rochelle, drinking champers solidly, non stop.
Now I know that every body says this every time they get shit faced but…
Never again! 
Happily I didnt puke up, and also happily , apart from getting ballistically drunk, chatting a bit , having a laugh, and passing out at about 4 pm, I didn’t do anything to be too embarressed about, so there is a possibilty of going next year.
I dont remember getting home, I do remember having to be helped up the road by our neighbour, coz I was too pissed to stand! 
My fucking head hurt the next morning, and all day , and all night as well.
Don’t let anybody tell you they don’t get a hangover with champagne, its bollocks.It just means they haven’t drunk enough!
I think Alonso won the race, but by that stage I really didn’t give a toss.
So thanks to Chris, the host, my boss for getting me the tickets, and Gary,Natasha, Rochelle, Tim , and Russ and Diane for the company and roll on next year, so we can do it again!! (but perhaps not really drink so much next time!)
Introspection 
