A sunny Sunday in England is an extreme rarity. One should spend such a Sunday out in Brighton with an ice cream or in Hyde Park with a good book.

One should not spend such a Sunday sleeping off a raging, self induced and regret filled hangover as many others have before her.

It all starts when one decides it to be a good idea to catch up with an old friend for a drink and dinner. This cocktail quickly turns into a pint at the pub, and before you know it you’ve missed the last tube and you’re dancing with your new bff Kate in a converted tram station before ordering a side of nachos with your extra large dominos.

Take a leaf out of my book, it’s always worth the headache in the morning.

I have also learnt to alter my level of comfortability whilst hostelling.  This tends to save for slightly awkward situations where your sharing a room with five strangers and all you want to do is lie in bed in your towel.

Making my daily weird habits seem unawkward is an art I have still yet to master. I’ll keep you posted.

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