Ick! Feeling a bit poy. Broke my not drinking during the week rule. Again. Actually got home at a reasonable-ish hour (12.45) but it would have been a lot earlier if I hadn’t got on the wrong bus. It did in fact take me to where I was going but by such a circuitous route that it would definitely have been quicker to walk.

Problem is that if I’ve been out I normally can’t sleep, so even though I didn’t drink any more after having got home I still didn’t get to sleep till after 3, hence late for work, feel a bit shit etc etc.

The reason for being out was Dr Heartbreak’s birthday which took place at The Fish Shop, Angel. I can heartily recommend it as it was a really very pleasant place to consume. Me : Oysters (shared with Jules), mackerel fillets w/ aubergine puree, treacle tart w/ clotted cream. Plus naturally own bodyweight in wine. And we were treated to a rare and gracious visit from his nobleness Mr Jones. Obvs he couldn’t stay more than an hour or so, but long enough to suck down a few tumblers of pop and generally dispense largesse amongst the peasants. Jones news : he is currently deeply into The Darkness and the Lowestoft sound (paid £65 each for tickets) and, unrelatedly, appears to be doing his level best to pass himself off as David Dickinson. He was also, unless I am much mistaken, wearing a Selwyn tie. Ack. Stev and Jones of course were unable to pass the evening without a little ritual antler clashing and scent marking, except that the battleground is no longer the simple testosterony place of yesteryear. Stev’s look of appalled horror when Jones admitted feeding his kids KFC Chicken Popcorn was a delight and a masterstroke.

Jones