Last night was a bit of a fiasco, really.

After consuming vast amounts of gin in Open Cafe, I ended up heading to Le Depot (again) where I did some bouncing and then lost my wallet. Thankfully, it was my cash wallet and not my card wallet, but it did mean I had to stand around trying to explain to pig-headed cloakroom staff why I wanted my jacket without my ticket - which had gone too. Not much cash in it (hardly any after the gin experience) so not a worry. There's a limit to the amount of time I'll spend on my knees in a darkroom looking for something, though.

The explaining was all very annoying, but made a lot easier with the assistance of an incredibly fit 23 year old called Jeremy, who had previously experienced me at my toppy best. He was really lovely indeed and we've exchanged phone numbers and all sorts of things. Egg factor 7 I think. The body did it for me.

Eventually, I got my jacket (after dealing also with a campsite toilet - eeuw) at about 5.30am so got a lift back to the hotel with Jeremy and sat and had a quick chill with him. I got told off by the night porter for coming in late and bringing trade with me, so I explained I paid his wages. The night porter's, that is, not the trade.

The flight back was unexciting as I slept through most of it, breaking only to bitch at the person in the seat infront who, after I'd finished, kept his seat back in the upright position for the rest of the journey. I did a repeat of Sydney where I went pretty much straight from the club to the airport, although I got an hour's sleep in beforehand.

The cab drive from the hotel to the airport was quite enthralling, in a "stop the fucking car and let me out you nutter" sort of way. More scary than the one in from the airport.

Back in the UK and it's just as it was when I left. Ach well. We watched Knight Rider and "The Great Escape" to while away the afternoon.

Out to Swindon in the evening with TVR Ed where we played pool and I showed off my spanky new teeshirt. All very pleasant. We talked through my France plans and it was agreed that it's not a bad idea after all. Hurrah!

Back to work tomrorow. Hur-fucking-rah.