Hey look, a Banksy!

The morning after... woke with the sun, and promptly assumed my position by the toilet bowl, where I'd be taking shifts for the next hour or so.

Was a pretty good night in the end - drinks at Dash's flat, then off to a pub (the slippers? something like that) before heading onto their rooftop terrace to look about. The others went to bed, but Duncan and I were still up for it, so headed round the corner to the only place that didn't cost £6 or more. We were promised free entry - it ended up being £2. This made us determined to make it worth our while, and resulted in us stealing a few pints off the bar and leaving with a salt and pepper shaker, a tape measure and a flower in our pockets.

The kitchen looked like a bomb site - Duncan sprawled over cushions, floating on a film of beer, and a bloody finger print with Duncan's name on it on the walls.

Once suitably recovered enough to stand daylight, we headed out to find a fry-up, and found a nice caf. This gentleman was outside, making us feel not quite so sorry about our state.

Back to Bath to watch 'The best exotic marigold hotel' with mum, was actually pretty good. You've got to love Bill Nighy.