On a writing catch up I was sitting at a table in Real Man in Clerkenwell and it was 2.30 AM. Suddenly the shutters rattle again and again. The last time this happened it was a religious loon and I ended up walking her via various churches to Islington nick as she had reported herself to the old Bill as being a loon. I rather feared the worst as there are some strange folk in the corner of Clerkenwell. I was right to fear the worst.
For it was Colourful James. As you might expect he had already had a few. It is now 4 AM and Colourful and I have set the world to rights. A glass or two for me still leaves me sober enough to drive and write. Colourful (after a glass or three on the house) will not be at his sharpest at 7 am. Perhaps I should have gone to the sociology conference at Warwick University after all?