After the funeral aka celebration of life of my friend Claire, I was starving (it was 10 pm, I'd been there since 4) so I cycled home and made some wholegrain spaghettini with fresh herbs and garlic, and a ... glass or two of wine. Wound up drinking the whole bottle, which wouldn't had been such a problem earlier in the evening, but I still felt a bit woozy when Renzo woke me up early the next morning.
Twenty years earlier, I'd have been unaffected by three times as much.
edited to add that I'd spent the whole fucking alternative ceremony holding the hand and patting an old friend of ours (not Claire's spouse, who was stoic and no doubt stunned) who had really lost it.
But, to cite the lame excuse, I really needed it, and I did not cycle home half-tanked.
As ferm says, as long as you didn't pose a risk to others, it really isn't such a big thing. We aren't angels and I find sometimes we need to let loose as best we can.
