In the five years I've lived in London I've so far managed to avoid falling asleep on public transport. Tonight I was drinking in Soho and caught the No 8 bus back to Bethnal Green. Despite the ineluctable head lolling, I was quite certain I would notice when I arrived at my chosen destination.

I was abruptly awoken by the guy sitting next to me's aborted attempt to rob me. Following a medium-scale confrontation, I alighted in a place which seemed familiar. Following thorough reconnaisance of my immediate environment, I discovered that my senses had betrayed me. I was in fact in Deptford. I have little idea where this is, nor have I any wish to know. Suffice it to say, it is very much South of The River.

Following a not considerable amount of drunken stumbling and falling, I hailed a taxi and explained my predicament: "Greetings, new best friend in the world, I fell asleep on the bus and I need to get back to the East End. I have £7 sterling and if you could get me anywhere near said destination I would gladly reward you with said cash amount."

Signor taxi driver proceeds on his way and I see the meter racking up, fearing that he's somehow misapprehended the amount of currency I have about my person. Once it gets to £15 he stops and is all "Here you go, tell you what, give us a fiver and you still have the bus fare home." I thank him profusely and exit the cab.

Taking in my immediate surroundings I ascertain that I am in Limehouse. A default cynic, my faith in humanity is restored in an instant. Somewhat circuitously, I make my way home on foot as the birds begin to sing and the sun peeks over the horizon.

LOL, probably, tomorrow.