Some of the houses we pestered were very well to do and some of them thought we were great, what with musical instruments and all. We were invited in to some houses that were having parties. One in particular, quite late on (by which time I was well on the way!) got us all to sing in their huge lounge with all their party guests after which they all put fivers in the tin (!). One guest asked "Who is it you're collecting for?". "Lea Children's Hospital for Mentally Ill Children," replied one of our more sober carollers. "Oh, that's lovely," said a very nice party guest,"...our niece is there." "Oh good" I said. Of course what I meant to say was "Oh good, she will be benefitting from our carol singing", but I guess I was just too pissed up to finish my sentence.
Justice that night came swiftly in a frenzied vomitting attack in a local pub car park, after which I passed out, was bundled into a taxi (I remember the taxi driver saying "keep his f***ing head out the window, I don't want him spewing in the car") and had a crap, hung over Christmas. I gave up drinking after that (though only recently started up again).
