Bitter is the new vodka

London has had several strange effects on me.

On the positive side (well, it depends on your point of view), it gave me the strength of mind to fulfil my Lenten vow. i.e., if I can put up with this town for four months, I can do without THAT for four weeks.

(By the way, I did complete the Lent thing. Mainly through sheer bloody-mindedness, some pain, and one incident of rule-bending...well, there was someone else involved, so it wasn't technically cheating).

On the downside, I have become so fixated with my own nose that I resemble a manic cokehead for a significant portion if every day. For starters, I appear to be allergic to toner and newsprint - which I already knew, not least from my time working in jobs which (a) relied on a fax machine and (b) involved reading local newspapers. I also now appear to be allergic to, for kick off:

• the Underground
• my own perfume
• mascara
• my office
• my co-workers
• life

So, when I'm not sneezing, I'm snuffling and/or becoming paranoid about the potentially horrid visual state of my own nose. Gahhhhh. Cor limey guvnor etc etc.

Also, I have started to drink bitter/ale.

Last time this was attempted was approximately 1998, when I tried Newcastle Brown, and commenced minor ABH and then possibly full-on sexual assault (from what I recall) on a, frankly, terribly lucky young man. I say young...he was a bit older than me....I should probably stop there. In any case, I wasn't at home when I woke up, and there may have been some questionable sci-fi role play involved in the mean time...

ANYWAY. I have had several years of responsible drinking since my late teens, but bitter now appears to be my gangsta-tripping nemesis. It is my lysergic acid. I exaggerate. It is my new half-bottle of Smirnoff Red. In that, on my way home just now, I fell over in the street, injuring my knees and palms, then swore at myself ( I believe the words used were "wanker" and "tosspiece", which shows my maturity here) before almost walking into a lamppost and then a post box.

HOWEVER talking to yourself as you walk down the street does decrease the risk of your being mugged and/or raped. 'Cause "crazy" is contagious. Apparently.

/ramble. Home safe now.