The joy of hangovers: why the morning after the night before is my favourite time to be creative

A tall glass of water, an open box of ibuprofen with a partially used blister pack, a remote control, and a box of tissues sit on a wooden coffee table.

I'm going to say something controversial: I quite like being hungover. Not the vomiting-in-a-bin, head-splitting sort after downing three bottles of vodka. But that peculiar state the morning after just a couple of pints too many, when your body feels like it's been through a tumble dryer but your mind is oddly clear. It's often when I do my best work.

I know how this sounds. Hangovers are meant to be awful. But there I am, groaning and fuzzy-headed, yet being more creative and productive than usual. It's as though someone's taken a duster to the cobwebs in my brain.