One has this sense of having been battered repeatedly about the head with a sandbag, pumped full of glycerol and hung upside down from a butcher's hook for a long period time. My eyes look as though they have been bathed in purest lemon juice.
Night work simply has to be a killer.
Two days off at last and I don't have to leave a cosy house - when everyone is snuggling under warm duvets - nor spend another night clambering up and down train ladders in the freezing drizzle, trudging through diesel sludge and inhaling sooty fumes.
The weather is forecast to be atrocious tonight
(Heaven - Definition: A nice warm bed or... Not hurting.)