So, early this week I was up. I'd gone to bed late, woken up at half two, and spent the night finishing "Murder, Maestro Please" - turned out to be quite a decent read, actually.
I was about to fall asleep when my second brain (my stomach) remembered that McDonalds opens at 5am for breakfast. What would that be like, I thought. So I went.
Trust me, there's no glamour. Although they do do a great cup of coffee. Possibly pressed from the souls of infants, but it's lovely.
The 5am staff were extraordinary - all posh leggy women with blonde hair and lovely manners. It was curiously like a MaccyD's run by Debs. The customers were mostly mumbly men. Not as many hot Polish builders as you'd hope. The odd thing was realising that there were two good old fashioned prostitutes still working outside the door.
Kings Cross has changed a lot. For years it's been lacking that "you want business?" feel that had the police searching our bins annually for diced hooker. Clearly, it's still there, they've just shifted the hours around a bit.
Anyway, I felt truly alive. I'd bought a muffin and a nice cup of coffee from a trainee yummy mummy and been propositioned for sex. And it wasn't even 6am.