I went to a mate's place last night - he and his fiance were having a housewarming/engagement party - although I didn't twig it was an engagement party until quite late in the piece. I had a bad case of winkitis - whenever I was introduced to someone I couldn't help winking. Not in a creepy, sleazy way, but in a "howyagoin" Oz kind of way. Once I'd started I couldn't stop. I may have to visit winkers anonymous. Yes, I did spell that right. I did my critically-acclaimed impersonation of a piece of decorative furniture and, as usual I was the last to leave. They turfed me out at 0100. The part of the evening that has made the most lasting impression on me was the cab ride over. I had one of those cab drivers who believes that steering is an optional part of driving a car. The essential part is to be able to read the street directory. After all, as long as he can hear the badoomp badoomp badoomp of the road markers under the wheels, it means the cab is still on the road, right? Either the blinkers were broken or it was against his religion to use them. Judging by the wailing prayers emanating from the stereo it's certainly possible. But I think the scariest thing of all was the pungent waft of garlic and cough syrup.