I get absolutely terrible hangovers

I get absolutely terrible hangovers
9 October 2013

I know I shouldn’t really whinge.  And it is all my own fault.  There’s no one else I can blame.  Excess always lead to remorse.  Regret.  And promises of reform.

But man alive, I get the worst hangovers you can ever imagine!

Worse even, is the fact that they’re in no part due to the intake of copious amounts of alcohol.  More’s the pity! 

No shooters.  Nor shots.  No down-downs galore.  No cocktails.  No cider, nor ale.  No wine.  Not even bloody champers, I tell you!  And hence there’s no alcohol induced remorse the next day.  No vague memories of dancing on tables or singing Karaoke. 

So pray tell – why the horrendous hangovers?

It’s books.  Glorious, wonderful, magnificent books. 

Long after the last page has been turned, their voices keep whispering their stories in my ear.  Their mental images remain.  Their adventures linger longer.  Their personalities ingrained in my being.

It’s as if I inhale them whilst reading and make them a part of my soul.  They live in my heart.  And once my book’s finished, I feel so sad, that I can visit them no more.  That’s they’re gone from my life.

But are they really?  I have learnt so much from my virtual friends between pages.  They’ve shared wisdoms and experiences and have enriched me so.  I have felt their pain and witnessed their joy.  I have joined them on journeys.  Fallen in love all over again.  Gotten to love their families.  Been hurt on their behalf and rejoiced with them too.  Their triumphs are mine.  Their victories too.

And so, once their tales have been told, and the last words have been read, I am quite often overcome with a funny feeling of being left hanging.  In the lurch.  As if they’ve abandoned me and cast me adrift. 

 

In addition, there is a sudden realisation that surprisingly, it was just a book.  Most often a fictional piece of literary work.  With very little based on reality and the real world.

It’s actually a very odd thing if you think about it.  But maybe it’s not.  Perhaps this ability to enthral a reader and transport them into a fictional realm is what sets the great authors apart from the rest.  They sweep you up into the life of their characters and leave you mourning the loss of their presence in your life.

However, I have also found this same anomaly when it comes to a really awesome TV series.  It can capture your imagination and whisk you away.  And after the last credits roll, it can be hard to comprehend that it’s really all over.  That you will see these people no more.

And so these book hangovers, are the lingering of stories, never forgotten, that remains.  That strange feeling of finishing a book, putting it down and noticing the real world all around you.  Of finding it weird, that everyone else has no comprehension of what you’ve just experienced.  The emotions you’ve just felt.  The almost melancholy sorrow you feel at this loss.  Because between the pages of your book, these people became real.  You knew them.  In fact, you were them.

You kind of want to call them up, just to have a chat.  Pop around for a coffee or simply get together and hang out.

Though perhaps, these book hangovers are also aggravated by lack of sleep, due to being completely enamoured with a book and having an inability to put it down and finally sleep.  Almost as if you’re afraid of missing out and the characters living on in your absence.  Having fun behind your back.  Getting up to mischief and revealing their secrets while you’re not looking.

Oh, what a delightful kind of hangover to have.  In fact, it’s the very best kind.

And so I’m hoping to be book plastered again very soon.  Completely out of my tree.  Paper drunk.  Sozzled.  Sloshed.  Wasted.  Hammered.  Loaded.  Inebriated beyond measure.  Intoxicated beyond belief.

Cause with just a wee bit of luck, it will leave me struck with yet another whopper of a book hangover again.

Oh happy days!  I simply can’t wait.

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