Have just remembered a very long conversation I had with an Irish gypsy in the street at about 2am Saturday night coming back from buying cigs.

Salient facts I can remember

1) His daughter is getting married next week
2) He’d done time (3 years but I couldn’t understand what for exactly – something to do with his sister-in-law?)
3) He couldn’t read
4) I offered to teach him
5) Between us we smoked the majority of a packet of 20 Camel lights in an hour and a half. Ack. Yack.

Why do I get into these situations. I blame the demon drink. Still was a harmless enough way to pass an hour or two – in London it’s extremely rare to have conversations with strangers, especially at 2 in the morning, so there you go.