Whoever invented mornings after should basically be shot.It’s quarter to nine and I’m sitting at a large circular table in the Bellagio restaurant, waiting for the others. My head is throbbing gently along with the background Muzak, and I feel a bit green. Which goes to show that room-service wine is just as potent as restaurant wine.And so are room-service cocktails.OK, OK. And room-service nightcaps.It also didn’t help that Minnie woke us up at about three A.M., shrieking that her bed was “in the water.” It’s all the fault of those stupid gondolas. They should have health warnings.I look up to see Luke returning to the table from the buffet, along with Minnie, who is clutching a bowl of cornflakes. “Mummy, flakes!” she says, as though she’s discovered some rare delicacy. “I got flakes!”“Amazing, darling! Yummy!” I turn to Luke. “She has the whole of the Bellagio buffet to choose from and she goes for cornflakes?”“I tried to get her interested in the fresh shrimp-and-lobster platter,”
