I went out for a quiet drink on Wednesday night.

And to be fair, it stayed relatively quiet, even after we ended up in the Carwash, acquired Ray's double Nick and had a final drink in Espionage.

All well and good.

I woke up the next day feeling bad. And I don't mean hangover bad. Full-on, Exorcist-style bad. I spent the day fitfully sleeping and crawling to and from the bathroom to drive the porcelain bus. Four separate onlookers opined that I must have had a dodgy pint, and I'm inclined to believe them.

Apart from extensive reverse peristalsis, it's been another quiet week. The only other thing of note I did was to go to see Ju-On ("The Grudge") last night. It's a Japanese horror in the same vein as The Ring and it is undeniably effective. At least it was for Kate, who watched from between her fingers most of the time.

As we were walking back into town for a drink at the Cameo, we passed a doorway where a waiter lighting a cigarette on his break, preceded by his shadow, suddenly appeared.

"FUCKING HELL!" bellowed Kate as she recoiled from the hapless guy. The poor bloke was probably more shocked than she was. "Oh! Er. Sorry. Film. Horror. Sorry. Oops."