Craic On

What could be nicer than to live it up with a couple of friends, eat canapés (not part of my five a day), drink an immodest glass of wine, then work it all off with a stroll home along the river?   “I’ll be back in time for Newsnight,” I texted. Instructing Wanda (that’s setting a google map route) should never be attempted at a stride. A cursory glance for oncoming obstacles is still a skill I think I have. I don’t. A collision with a lamp post focused my concentration. It was all going so well until I hit the south side of Vauxhall Bridge. I knew exactly where I was because Wanda told me so, and then she didn’t. “That’s the MI5 building for you,” the Flatmate said. “It plays havoc with your google.”  Turning right into the Wandsworth Road, I began to wonder. “In ten meters turn right” So I did. Tesco never used to be there. I was properly lost but took the opportunity to buy a pint of milk. “In fifty meters turn right.” I did as Wanda commanded. I could have asked for help, but so certain was