I’m the first one at work (I’m actually early), and the others turn up in dribs and drabs. A few sore heads and stories about how the shots of Sambucca and Apple Sours did the rounds after I left circulate: “I was hammered”, says one colleague and a story about how a bromance between two male colleagues endured as they left the pub arm in arm.
I used to be one of those people who hit the shots. I used to be one of those people with a hangover from hell. Now, I’m just a smug git.
Tonight, the hub's folks arrive for Christmas armed with a lovely microwave as our present. Perfect.
