Every single time, I wake up and tell myself I am never drinking again. This morning was no exception. I had quite a busy day planned anyway, but now I need to add the following to my ‘To Do’ list:

*Apologise to everyone for disappearing during the evening

*Find out why I came home wearing someone else’s pants over my jeans

*Find out how I got home

*Clean up the pie and chips that are smushed into the carpet in my room

*Find out when I was coherent enough to buy pie and chips

*Investigate why I signed up to Twitter for the sole purpose of telling Kim Kardashian how nice she looked at her wedding, (I am not a fan of Kim Kardashian and I don’t even know what her wedding dress looked like, so I am completely confused as to why I did that)

*Examine very carefully all the photos I took, on my phone, of people I had never before met and will probably never be able to look in the eye again.

It is shameful to admit that last night was the first social evening I have had with one of my new housemates and her friends, but I shouldn’t be surprised at myself; whenever I drink things seem to happen that I cannot explain…(though they do make great anecdotes for the morning after). A perfect example of this would be from approximately three years ago when, at my then-boyfriend’s house party, I discovered I had, at some point earlier that day, swallowed a whole strawberry (with its stem still attached) which I then regurgitated in its entirety into his toilet.

On numerous occasions I have ended up taking my shoes off and walking home barefoot – this actually led me to wake up one morning with a large stone in my big toe, but for some reason I hadn’t felt it wedge itself under my toenail during the previous evening. I have also woken up with a moustache drawn on my face using a blue permanent marker pen. I have followed my friends into the men’s toilet and engaged in conversation with a stranger while he was using the urinal. I have pretended my name was Dixie Normous and signed up for car insurance for a vehicle I don’t even own. I once tried to text a guy called Dan telling him he was “a sexy beast” and discovered, the next day, that I had accidentally sent the message to my dad. I have even woken up to find an uneaten, almost perfect but stone-cold roast dinner that I had left for myself but that I have absolutely no memory of cooking.

My best friend from university gave me a wonderful gift for my twenty-first birthday: a silver photo frame engraved with the words “Nobody made Uni more fun than you!” and I will treasure it for the rest of my life. Thinking about it, however, I am fairly sure that the reason nobody made Uni more fun than I did is because I am such an unpredictable drunk. When we went out for the evening, my friend and I would do such ridiculous things that I am amazed we are still alive today…

I remember the numerous occasions he has worn my clothes. Once he had a very camp (and very stylish) man approach him and ask if the dress he was wearing was vintage Gucci. It wasn’t. It was my £20 black lacy dress from New Look which my friend decided to accessorize with a can of Stella Artois and a deeper voice than usual (he was trying to assert his masculinity, which is difficult to do when someone asks if you are wearing vintage Gucci).

On another night, following a mutual friend’s birthday one December, we chose to lay down on the pavement outside the nightclub and look at the Christmas lights strung between the buildings. We must have been on the icy-cold concrete for quite some time and neither of us were wearing much clothing (as is the norm on a night out) therefore I cannot understand how we didn’t catch hypothermia.

The cherry on the cake, for my friend and I, was when we became very upset over a DJ cancelling his gig at the club we wanted to attend. In fury at his refusal to turn up and play the music we love, we had a lot of absinthe, tried to see Thor 3D at the cinema, (we did get in but the 3D was so overwhelming for our drunken minds that we left halfway through – I still haven’t tried watching it again), marched over to the club where the gig had been cancelled and decided to tell the barman we weren’t going to buy any drinks from him because we were “emotionally unstable” (I presume we meant we were just upset that we couldn’t see the DJ we liked). Following our little chat with the bar staff, we somehow got into a very expensive lap-dancing club without paying and gawped at some dancers wearing the most unnecessary clothing imaginable, (unnecessary because it was so small they shouldn’t have bothered putting it on). Then we got a taxi back to my friend’s house so that we could call my other best friend and tell her we thought she was beautiful, (she reminded us of this the following day, since neither of us could remember doing it; she didn’t mind being woken up at 3am to be told she was beautiful but she would have preferred us not to have shouted it at her over and over in case she didn’t believe us). All in all, nights out with me tend to turn into something of an adventure!

I am trying to decide if my unpredictability is a good thing or not. My housemate has not yet woken up so I am unable to ask her if I did anything, last night, which may have seriously offended someone and mortally wounded any chance of forming a decent friendship with her. In general, people seem to respond pretty well to my antics but that is mainly because I don’t do anything that hurts other people or causes serious trouble; I simply lose all regard for my dignity and self-awareness.

People often say that “binge-drinking” and “young people” are inextricably linked and I assume that the same people would scold me for my behaviour, but I don’t think that I am doing anything morally wrong by drinking too much every now and again.

The fundamental points that I will always emphasise, when recounting my tales, are that I only drink to excess when I am with people I can trust and that I would never allow myself to do anything dangerous or that would require some serious sorting-out the following day (cleaning up pie and chips not withstanding).

What I am doing is creating great memories, with great people around me that I will cherish for the rest of my life. I don’t know a single older person who wouldn’t revel in recounting tales of their youth, so I hope that when I get beyond the age of ridiculous drunken behaviour (whenever that may be) I have many more anecdotes to add to the ones I have already collected.

In summary, drinking to excess is fine once in a while and if you are with people that will help to drag you home safely afterwards. I can’t think of a single night out that I regret or would change and I hope that I can always say the same about my adventures with my friends…Incidentally, I should probably stop writing and get around to cleaning up the mess I have made with my late-night munchies. I didn’t even get to eat that much of it so I am guessing I just tossed it to one side after deciding that pie and chips is not a good breakfast.

Oh, and my best friend has just emailed me asking to decipher a few text messages I sent her last night… this could take a while…