New balls please

Last week I was a bit lax with my exercise routine and finished the week with a massive night out during which I drank an entire bottle of wine. The day after it was weigh-in day and, as it was also Election Day (shake head as you note which is first in my order of importance), I headed down to the polling station. My altered state of consciousness (read heavy, horrid hangover) led me to stand for 20 minutes in the wrong borough’s polling station before realising that I live in Camden, and the residents of Brent really didn’t care about my political inclination. Stumbling over to the correct side of the road I mused regrettably about how easily I was swayed to neck that bottle and to stray from my well-thought-out slimming plan.