Vomit

The trip back to Wullington was uneventful, although some unsuspecting Kiwi suit emerged from the toilet cubicle at the Shell garage to find me puking my ring into the basin – the expected hangover having by now kicked in. I would obviously rather have vomited in the toilet, but as he was in there, what option did I have? He didn’t seem to see it that way and got rather arsey about having to wash his hands where I had just vomited, despite my pointing out that I’d done my best to wash the worst of it away.