A young woman wakes up after a party - and decides it would be better to go back to bed. Amateur comedy by Brian Dunckley, a member of Newcastle & District Amateur Cinematographers Association.  Credit: Linda Lewis Title: The Morning After ….. A bedroom carpet is strew with party clothes. A clock alarm rings on a messy white bedside cabinet. A hand reaches out from beneath the bed sheets to turn it off knocking over make-up and other objects.  There’s a groan and a figure moves around...

A young woman wakes up after a party - and decides it would be better to go back to bed. Amateur comedy by Brian Dunckley, a member of Newcastle & District Amateur Cinematographers Association.  Credit: Linda Lewis Title: The Morning After ….. A bedroom carpet is strew with party clothes. A clock alarm rings on a messy white bedside cabinet. A hand reaches out from beneath the bed sheets to turn it off knocking over make-up and other objects.  There’s a groan and a figure moves around under the blankets. Hand cream drips from an overturned tube into a slipper. A young woman in a stripy bed shirt (with a hangover) emerges from the blankets, groaning, and still wearing a silver party hat.  She groans some more and holds her head. A picture is askew on the wall. She scratches. She slides her feet into her bedside slippers - and splodge of hand cream. She looks at her foot, dabs at the cream and rubs it into her hands. She wipes the rest off her foot with a tissue. She gets up and opens the curtains, rapidly shutting them when sunlight hits her. She cringes away. She looks in a mirror at her bleary eyes and sticks out her tongue. Down in the kitchen, the aftermath of a party is evident. She searches for a clean glass, sniffs at a glass of blue alcohol and turns away in disgust, pouring it into a plant pot. She turns on a tap and water spurts into her face, soaking her. She shakes her head. She spoons out a large tablespoon of Andrews Liver Salts into a glass of water. It fizzes up and spills out onto the kitchen worktop and onto the floor.  She drinks the dregs and expresses a disgusted ‘yuk!’. She puts the kettle on, grabs some bread and a knife from a drawer, trapping her night shirt in the drawer and ripping it as she pulls away.  She doesn’t have much luck in slicing the bread at the right thickness but perseveres. The kettle boiled, she pours a cup of tea, and grabs a container of what she thinks is sugar from the cupboard. She spoons in a heap of salt, takes a sip and grimaces. She spoons more of the salt into her cup, sips, and decides it tastes fine.   Grabbing an egg, she looks around at all the unwashed kitchen paraphernalia and pops it in the kettle instead. Toast pops up out of the toaster and into a sink of dirty water. She groans. She spoons her egg out of the kettle and into an egg cup.  Tapping it with a spoon, she breaks the egg cup and the uncooked egg falls onto her feet and smashes. She holds her head in her hand and shakes it. Nothing is going right! Next, she goes in the living room, turns on the light and surveys the chaos after the party. Bottles are strewn everywhere. She looks down and she’s stepped into a plate of whipped cream. She picks it up and makes it to the window and tugs at the curtains. Railings and curtains collapse, knocking her over into an armchair and the plate of cream in her face. She wipes some of it away from her eyes but can’t see properly. She tries to find a tissue, sets off the electric typewriter, which knocks over a lamp, which sets in motion a mechanical chain of objects toppling over on the sideboard, culminating in the pet goldfish landing in a broken glass of alcohol on the floor. The young woman makes it back to bed. She wipes her face with a tissue and notices a party invite on her bedside cabinet. She rips it up, climbs back into bed and disappears under the covers. Credit: a film by Brian Dunckley Title: The End