Well, maybe not the full groan, but it can’t be that far off it. Last night there were ‘Christmas drinks’ at the subcontractor’s place: champagne, wine (I know champagne is also a wine, but hey: give me a break, I’m fragile), and nasty, nasty canapés. Well, maybe not nasty, nasty, but certainly nasty. Lots of vegetarian things with nuts and lentils in them. None of those filo pastry wrapped prawns that we all know and love. And the, after the high-heedgins had all gone – after telling the staff to stay put and drink the other 23 cases of wine if they liked – it was off to the pub. Beer sits not too well on top of fizzy wine.

Needless to say, today the office is pretty much like Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. Me? Well, if you must know, I woke up at seven, had a bit of a groan, a shower, a HUGE cooked breakfast, and a couple of ‘fizzy make feel good’ tablets. So although I’m not exactly gambolling like a freshly-minted lamb (no pun intended) I am at least functioning. If only on partial thrusters.

Maybe I need a holiday? Or just to curl up under the desk and slip, quietly, into the land of velvet slumber… Except I think my snoring would wake the other people who managed to drag their corpses – reeking of second-hand alcohol – in to work today.

Ahhhhhhhhhh Christmas: the great hangover.