Got a hangover? Heave yourself out of bed and throw yourself on the mercy of one of these literary cures, suggests Emma Hughes.
If happiness writes white, inebriation’s ink is a tedious shade of puce. The older you get, the clearer it becomes that there really is nothing remotely interesting about getting sloshed. Like Tolstoy’s cheery families, all boozy evenings wobble unsteadily along the same trajectory: one top-up too many, tears on the taxi floor and a…
