On Monday night, I stayed in. I read. I surfed the web. I had a quiet time.

By 10.30pm I was bored. At 11.20pm, I left my folks' house, and drove to the Porterbutt.

When I got there, it was just the landlord and landlady - Helen and Andy, a barman and two regulars. I got a pint in, and Helen and I discussed the state of the world, including Cuba, Iceland, and several points in between.

As the conversation went on I was given a couple of pints on the house by Helen, before getting to serve myself a final half. I love pouring my own Guinness from the tap. I think, as a dedicated Guinness drinker, it's a feeling of power - being able to pour it just how you want. This wouldn't quite be the same with other beers, as other beers tend not to be so fiddly to pour correctly.

There's something about having Guinness, hours after it's become illegal to serve it, that makes it taste all the better.

Somehow, I got talked into doing my Leonard Rossiter as "Rigsby" impression, and for the rest of the evening, the "What Would Rigsby Do" theme continued in the conversation.

I left at 2.30am, and proceeded - against my physician's advice - to a popular late-night kebab take-away place, linked to my favourite Turkish restaurant in town. More on that restaurant, its wonderful food, and characterful staff next week.