As if working until 1am on Sunday morning wasn't bad enough, the cab journeyfrom West Hampstead to my house was a nightmare - a tour of the back streetsof London with a cab driver whose limited grasp of English extended only toscreaming "bloody bastard!" at any car that so much as got in his way.Finally arriving at my house I discovered that I didn't have enough cash onme to pay the fare and had to go through every pocket in every item ofclothing I own to scrounge enough together to cover it. In the process Iemptied out the pocket contents on to the chest of drawers beside my bed andthe resultant mess pretty much sums up my night.