(Cue dodgy theme tune)
It's twenty to two on a misty Cambridge morning, I'm slightly sober, and have nothing to do. That's not entirely true. Having had a rather entertaining dinner, involving a surreally disturbing canape made, I strongly suspect, from blue cheese, pesto, walnuts, and toast, I spent a couple of amusing hours in a cinema bar before being gently, but I must stress, rather firmly, evicted at an obscenely early hour. Cambridge University's authorities have clearly rigged a scam with the local publicans whereby the University guarantees custom and the publicans guarantee to have all their customers wrapped up nicely in bed by half eleven - at the latest- so that they can be fresh as a daisy when slaving away in the library the next morning.
So, anyway, that's why I'm here....
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