London's early morning mist

You know things have probably gone wrong when it’s Wednesday morning, you’ve had about 50 minutes sleep, Jason is in the shower and The Baron is giving you guidance on how to close the front door of his London Bridge flat, after your seventh failed attempt.

After maneuvering my partially functioning body out of the apartment block at 7:30am, I realised I had no idea where I was. I spotted a serious Swiss looking guy in a suit, sporting a Jalfont style double armed rucksack and, figuring he must mean business, I decided to follow him. However, the Swiss fella was pretty fleet of foot, and managed to shake me off his tail, resulting in me wandering down a totally deserted london road with a fine covering of mist everywhere. Eerie.

I was just waiting for Jack the Ripper to emerge from the gloom to put me out of my misery, when I spotting the rucksacked villain striding up some stairs to an overpass. I gave swift pursuit, and knew I was near Tube salvation when I got to the top and a luminous assassin attempted to insert a copy of Metro down my throat.

In poker news, if someone can explain to me how I can win a multi way £1,000 Omaha pot and still finish down £500 for the night I’d be delighted to hear it. I’m approaching the point of complete abandonment of non-holdem cash games now…much as I enjoy them they are hurting my bottom line too much. I’ll play the Xmas party, but will need to reassess after that.