2004-11-08 - 3:20 p.m.

I love exploring London�s outer suburbs, especially at 2.30am without a clue where I am. The nightbus oversleep is a terrible thing. I was doing really well, having drunk myself skunklike at a posho industry do, and had managed to keep my eyes open for most of the way. I remember thinking �Great! My stop is in five minutes!� And then blanking out for over half an hour. That initial wake up is like a jolt of adrenaline. Your eyes flick open and all of a sudden you're trying to take in as much scenery as your faltering brain can take, desperate for one landmark that will tell you that you just didn�t just snooze your way into suburbia.

My suburb of choice was Enfield, a place I didn�t even know the buses went to. Still, I find there�s no better way to appreciate its many attractions than wandering around its streets trying to find a bus stop going in the other direction whist wearing a crumpled tuxedo, looking for all the world like an out of work croupier. You may as well attach a sign around your neck saying �Mug Me Now�. Luckily, in the suburbs even the criminals go to bed at a reasonable hour, and I had the streets to myself as I tried to work out where it all went wrong. Luckily, a bus came almost straight away � or it could have been four hours; who�s to say? � and I managed not to repeat the same mistake. The continuous nightbus sleepover of ever decreasing circles is always a present danger in that state, but thankfully it was avoided.

They should really think about doing announcements on those buses, though.

I�m a little delicate today, needless to say. My head feels like a china shop being dropped from a great height onto a bull.