London liver wars

London's South Bank in summer - in fact, at any time of the year - is one of my favourite places, and today is no exception. It's blowing a bloody gale and is only warm when you're standing in direct sunlight, but no-one here cares. Behind me, the outdoor bar at festival hall is packed with post-work winos. Every inch of park bench is occupied with people soaking up whatever sun they can, listening to a trombone player to the left and the accordion player to the right. The walkway is heaving with a steady parade of walkers, joggers, cyclists and skateboarders. Even the boats on the Thames are packed inside and out.

We've been back in Stinktown for a week now. It's been a whirl of catch-ups and last hurrahs, with the ubiquitous 'London Pub' featuring far too regularly on our itinerary to be healthy. Today I am waiting to meet Sarah-Jane. She was possibly the first friend I made in London five years ago and she has been my pub companion on too many evenings to mention. It's easy to see how tonight is going to pan out - dinner and a bottle of wine, a cheeky drink on the way to the station, then another ... next thing you know it's morning, I'm trying not to be sick on the tube and swearing that next time I'll stick to one small glass of wine (none at all is too much to hope for!).

There's no doubt I'll miss SJ and all of our London mates, but we've got to get out. Apart from the irreversible damage we're doing to our livers, we're hemorrhaging cash. We spent five days budget on our second day here and it's only gotten worse. Lucky we love this city. We love it's vibe, the buzz, the history, the buildings, and the grit and grime. We're certainly glad we came back for one final farewell, but we're also a little relieved it's for a good time not a long time.