Morning after a Works Dinner

Walked back home last night by the sea. Too much wine and one expensive awful lager. Left the party as it was getting going - afraid of a hangover for the Saturday shift. Left them all in the Metropole - a violet coloured Brighton Overlook, all long corridors and labyrinthine wallpaper. A man stopped me on one corridor; 'you cannot get out this way, you must go back'.
Foamy sea and the promenade was empty, and I cannot remember the man in the newsagents by the Neptune but am glad I bought a can of diet coke from him. Waiting for a shower now, and outside there is the sound of a bird, lost and heavy in still grey light.