Day 194: braving the rabble.

It is 2.26am on Sunday morning and I am having a cup of organic fennel tea. It is something I do now, when I get home from a night out. Instead of chomping down on whatever fat-laden delight my drunken eyes and hands have sought out from whichever obliging fast food vendor, as I might have done in days gone by, I have a cup of tea. Herbal usually. Lovely. But what am I actually doing up at this time of the morning? It was quite a shock when I saw my phone just now. These days I'm usually home around midnight. Admittedly, I did have two OJs. That might account for the extra energy and awakeness. (And yes, I am aware that the me that says things like that about juice, would freak the me of old right out. I am, it seems, a completely different creature.) Anyway, I had a good night, and the Chills were cool (and hilarious). But I had forgotten just how rabbly a Saturday night crowd on a main street can be. Drunken hoards clambering all over each other, slopping drinks everywhere, throwing their limbs around in big, disastrous, flailing gestures. It always makes for entertaining viewing. Until your feet get tired in their towering heels and you have to tip-toe your way through it all and then try and wrestle a cab off one of the inebriated (it's harder than you think). I actually managed it quite easily tonight, and got a very nice cab driver, which is how I came to be here with my tea. Actually though, I think I'm too sleepy now for even one more sip.