Things had got beyond a joke. I stepped into a chemist's and weighed myself. 63 kilos. 10 stone, which is quite a feat when you're five foot eleven and in full time employment. My problem was that I was incapable of defaulting on a bill. One of the regulars down the Astoria said to me, 'Andy, are you eating?' He took me out for roast chicken. The retsina flowed.
That was another three-dayer.