Oh my head

Monday 7th March

For some reason I overslept this morning. I awoke to the sound of Ginny shouting at the boys. 'Your school uniform is on your beds. Who wants Ready Brek?' There were a few grunts and then Ginny burst through the kitchen door and whirled around filling the kettle, laying the table, getting a loaf of bread out of the freezer. Then she stopped and opened the door to the back porch where I was still curled up in my bed. 'Arrow! I'd forgotten about you.' She picked me up. 'You clever, clever boy. You've slept right through the night.' She put me on the floor. I felt decidedly wobbly. I wasn't going to make it to the back door to be let out for a wee. So I didn't bother.

Once she'd cleaned the floor Ginny knelt down to have a look at me. 'What's up little man? You don't look yourself this morning.'

I don't feel myself. My head feels magnetically attracted to the floor and I just want to lie down. A clammy fur seems to have grown over my tongue overnight and it feels twice its normal size. I want to drink lots of water but when I do it makes me feel queasy. I'm going back to bed.

I lay in bed and snoozed while Nick, Ben and Jake had their breakfast. Afterwards, and in between their mad searches for rugby kit, swimming trunks and a quick polish of their school shoes, they each in turn came to talk to me. Jake whispered in my ear: 'Get better Arrow.' Ben tickled my tummy which usually makes me giggle and wriggle. Today I just lay back. I had no energy for anything. Nick stroked me: 'See you later Arrow I've got to go to school now.' The boys in my family are quite nice really.

Nick and Ben left to catch the bus and Clive emerged from his noisy ablutions in the bathroom. While the boys had been having their breakfast we'd heard him singing. He has this knack of choosing one of the worst songs you could possibly think of, sings it, then departs the room leaving the song on your brain for hours. Ginny hates it. I heard her moaning at him: 'If you're going to sing corny songs at least choose something I like!' Today he's singing a song about a convoy travelling through the night, every so often he roars: 'CONVOY!' at the top of his voice. Today, Clive, I am not in the mood.

Ginny left to take Jake to school. While she was gone Clive made himself some toast. Then he came and had a look at me. His face was scrunched up with worry. 'You alright Arrow?' I gazed up at him balefully. 'What does he care?' I thought.

'I hope I haven't overdone things,' Clive mumbled.

'What is he talking about?' I thought.

Clive was riffling through the pages of the Dog Care Handbook and mumbling. 'Ah here we are.' He read for a while. Then looked at me. He came over and inspected me, pulling my eyelids down, prodding my tummy. Usually I would have given him a nibble but today it was all too much effort.

'You'll be alright Arrow,' he said rather more confidently than I think he felt. And with that he gathered up his briefcase and went out of the door. I nodded off.

The next thing I knew Ginny was back. The washing machine was whirling, the dishwasher was humming, the vacuum cleaner was roaring, my head was thumping. I stayed in bed. In the kitchen Ginny was sorting out empty bottles for the recycling box - two wine bottles, a few tonic water cans, a couple of empty cans of Stella Artois and a miniature bottle of Baileys liqueur. Ginny picked up the latter and looked at it thoughtfully. 'Where did that come from?'

She picked up the phone: 'Clive I think Nick's been drinking. I found that Baileys miniature in the bottle bin. What do you think we should do?' She paused as Clive answered.

'But you hate Baileys.' She paused again.

'Well I'll get you a bottle in if you're going to take up having a nightcap.' Another pause.

'Oh well if you're sure.' And she put the phone down thoughtfully. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. Ginny can look quite frightening at times. She loomed over my bed, picked me up and sniffed my breathe. Her eyes narrowed again and she replaced me gently in my bed. 'I think I know what will make you feel better.'

Ginny cooked me a couple of scrambled eggs for breakfast. I thought I wasn't going to be able to manage them but it turned out that I was quite hungry and I polished off the lot - and when I say polished, that's what the bowl looked like when I'd finished. Then Ginny took me into the garden. I felt a bit better with some fresh air. Then I went back to bed and I slept and I slept and I slept.

When I woke again the boys were home from school and eating their tea. Ginny was pacing up and down the kitchen. A large bottle of Bailey's Cream Liqueur stood in the middle of the table. I felt quite lively. My head was no longer sagging earthwards and my tongue felt clean again. All was right with the world.

The sound of Clive's key in the front door soon changed that. 'Hello everyone.'

There was a deathly silence. The boys sat eating their tea. Their heads down, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Clive walked into the kitchen and started to smile at Ginny. Then he noticed her expression. Then he noticed the bottle of Bailey's. His face froze halfway between a smile and a look that said: 'I really wish I was somewhere else.'

'Ooh err, hello,' Clive said rather pathetically.

'Don't ever, ever give my puppy alcohol ever again,' Ginny's voice was low and menacing.

'I thought it would help him sleep,' Clive replied lamely.

Ginny picked up the Bailey's bottle and for a split second I thought she was going to bring it crashing down on Clive's head. I was so worried I messed on the floor.

Attention diverted, crisis avoided. I survived my first (and hopefully my last) hangover. So did Clive. Just.