It's 2am and I'm in the living room of an old friend - male, before you jump to conclusions.
The session has gone on and off for most of the afternoon and evening and the old friend lasted longer than I, thrusting the keys to his house into my hand as we sat, gurgling at each other, in Wolverhampton's premier vodka bar.
A rip-off taxi ride later (£8!!!), I was fumbling with the phone trying to find a takeaway curry at 1.45 on a Friday morning. Needless to say, I had a cheese roll for my tea/dinner/supper/breakfast.
No complaints, the evening was interesting. I've always wanted to drink Spanish lager in a bar full of chavs queueing up for the karaoke - no, really, you should try it just once.
I hope this last blast of Midlands hedonism will clear a lot of mental and physical gunk out of my system. It's time to focus on Westray and what it may or may not have to offer me.