Yesterday turned out to be quite a day. A friend of mine had told me about a cool-sounding gay/drag bar up in London I wanted to go investigate, so at about three I took a roll up to charing cross. The place in question, Half Way To Heaven turned out to be very easy to get to, and even after ten minutes in there I had decided I liked it. I now want to take Lyn up there as soon as possible: the atmosphere was just so relaxed, open, friendly and free.

We didn’t stay too long: I wanted to be home before ten, preferably sober. I’ll hopefully be getting acquainted with that place soon. We stayed about an hour before getting some dinner and heading back to the station. However, it was there that something much less cool happened: we had to wait for our train, so we took the opportunity to grab one last beer. We headed into the station bar, and asked for two beers. To our utter astonishment, the barman refused to serve me on the grounds that he didn’t know my medical condition. That has never happened before – I was not drunk, but even after we explained that it was fine, he still point blank refused. To be fair there may have been some kind of misunderstanding, as the guy clearly was not born locally, but I still felt quite patronised and insulted. We caught the train in a foul mood – it had been a great evening, rather spoiled by that small incident. Oh well, at least I have somewhere to take Lyn now.