A Night at the Mansions

There was a certain amount of amusement at Sleepy Mansions last night, and at Sleepy's expense, on hearing that Gail had sent her a message to say that a mutual acquaintance had moved back to Pompey.
Said Mutual Acquaintance is a seventh level Sith nutcase and as such will be magnetically drawn to Sleepy's personal gravity well. In short, my friend Sleepy is a fruitcake magnet.
Amusement that is, until this afternoon when I myself was walking towards Palmerston Road and the realisation dawned upon me that I too draw nutters as a white sofa will draw black cat hairs.
I felt the hairs prickle on the back of my neck and I had one of those Jaws journeys where at any moment the black fin could appear from the water.
But it was simple paranoia and the only person I met that I knew was a friend.

I was astonished to last until 1 last night. When I left the Château for Sleepy Mansions, I could have easily gone to bed, the more so since as Ben and I turned the corner onto Rue Albert, we got blown right back to Kansas. Or, was that some other more inebriated time?
Anyroad, the wind was blowing at gale force and the rain was horizontal.

But Aliens Road has some sort of contagious insomniac effect going on and in spite of periodical buzzing in my head telling me to find somewhere to lie down and sleep, once we got talking, I made it to an hour I rarely see even when not jet-lagged.