At midday he persuaded his body to get out of bed. He only vaguely recalled making his way back to the room in the early hours of the night. By the severity of his hangover he figured it must have been a good night's drinking. His stomach was screaming for food so, bleary-eyed, he went to eat lunch. He was still thirsty too, even after drinking half a litre of water to wash down the paracetamols. He ate what he could manage and bloated himself with more liquids. The paracetamols weren't having too much of an effect. 'Maybe I need another two,' he thought, and decided to go back to the room to crash out for a couple of more hours. It was a wise decision.

He ordered a pizza for himself and a couple of friends at their place in the evening, which helped to fill up the vacant space in his stomach, and relaxed with some vodkas and some Camels.
He was back in his own room by 10 o'clock, leaving his friends to go to bed as they had to be up early - one for work and the other for study. He switched on the TV to see if there was anything of interest. Talk shows and sport - not much really. He sat through an unexciting 80's movie before going to bed.