As my eyes adjusted to the light and I started to come about, two questions entered my mind. Why was I naked and why is my door unlocked?

I got up, put my boxers on and dawdled out onto the corridor where I encountered the toilet. Somebody had well and truly destroyed it, and as I was the only one out from my floor last night, I'm guessing it was me.

I wobbled into the shower, now totally aware of the extent of last night. The computer had been turned off at the socket and so had everything else in the room, hence my alarm hadn't woken me. Again.

A sticky mess was plastered onto my desk, which I can only assume is some more of my stomach liquids, except it didn't smell like or feel vomit, more like very alcoholic hot and sticky boiled sweets.

And so I phoned around to find out how I had gotten home, but no one seems to know, which I am assuming must mean that I did it alone and of my own accord. The last memory I have of the night is necking back some vile concoction of shots (which I since have been informed included gin, Bacardi, Malibu and whiskey). Devito was working behind the bar in Room One which meant I was always served 'well', and I do have recollections of enthusiastically ordering double vodka shandys earlier in the night.

We had started in Towers bar, a quiet event (as I had intended my unofficial birthday celebration to pan out) with a single pint. We then went to town; Spoonie's then Lloyds, finally back to campus and into the Union. Over the course of the evening I sampled Goldschlager for the first time. Tom had told me about the stuff a while back, but until now I'd not tried it. Quite nice really, and it also makes you look posh drinking bits of real gold and all.

Apparently I went at the drinking game with all vigour and enthusiasm, which didn't do me any good. Jon and I paraded around the different bars in the union suggesting what I might like to drink next, which only went to promote my later inebriated state.

The best thing about this morning was that (although I had managed to miss the group meeting at 11am) I awoke lacking in hangover, a nice little trick that I like to pull off occasionally. God must like me or something. However to say that I was sober would be a lie, and I prepared myself for the downfall with a Ibruprofen and small south American nation's annual rainfall worth of a drink.

Within half an hour my state had deteriorated and I sat through the postponed group meeting with a strong desire to lie down or eat something.

I had lunch then slept for a couple of hours. Second shower for the day, this time I was a bit more stable, and I think it's fair to say that I am now fairly clear of the roughest patch.

On a totally unrelated subject, I have been following this online exhibition from the Tate. Leading up to the Olympic decision day, it showcases some of the best of our home-grown (well known) talent. Everyday a new image/video is unveiled and it's been quite good so far.

I am a little concerned about Friday. I still haven't done any revision and I'm not wanting a similar ilk of night to the last one - once in a blue moon it's just about bearable, but twice in one week. Especially this week. I'm may have to abstain from the alcohol.