| Thursday, June 27, 2002 |
 | After drinks with Catherine last night, I had one of those moments. Walking down Shaftesbury Avenue towards home, a woman in front of me and walking in the opposite direction teeter-tottered on a discarded rubbish bag and fell to the floor. As I returned her cigarette to her hand and helped her to her feet, she asked me the name of the club opposite, which had a scrolling marquee sign saying "for all the lovely ladies", commenting with bewilderment that she was 43 years old and the club was for all the lovely ladies. Almost as if she wasn't sure if they would let her in anymore.
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