I won't linger on this entry. Suffice to say we checked out of the hotel dead on 12pm, I walked to the car, started to drive, and realised that actually, motion wasn't a very good idea.
An hour later, my fantastic sister had rescued me (on the day after her wedding, oh the guilt) by walking 20 minutes to where we were parked, driving us back to her house, getting me clean clothes to wear and tucking me into her bed. When she returned to check on me, I had a blanket tightly wrapped around my head because "my hair's cold". Oh dear.
About 4 hours later I woke up and felt sufficiently human enough to drive the 5 miles to my parents house. They were surprisingly understanding, had been happy to look after J-cub all day, and reassured me that they'd all been just as ill in their misguided youth (and reminded me of the fact that I've only been out drinking once in the more than 2 years since I found out I was pregnant) and it happens to the best of us. And I went back to bed for another 2 hours.
Silly Beth.
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