Amsterday 3 and home

Stuck on most of the girls' windows in Amsterdam's Red Light District are small white stickers banning photographs but nonetheless I felt it would be a shame to leave the area without some sort of visual reminder. I had been walking along with Fran who encouraged me to take a subtle snap, saying 'What's the worst that can happen?' Eventually I clicked in the direction of one prostitute house and within a nanosecond, the girl pictured on the left was banging on the window of her cubicle and screaming like an angry zoo animal, while another young lady started yelling from her doorway and threatening to push us in the canal. So that was quite scary. I must say, even without that incident, I found the RLD fairly upsetting. I don't know what I was expecting but I was surprised by quite how unerotic it all was - reconfirming the oft-heard but rarely understood truth about how much more physical than emotional sex is for men. Seeing groups of lads paying to go into live sex shows at 1pm on a rainy Saturday just didn't sit right with me. But in fairness they were all quite ugly so I suppose they find it difficult to have intimate relations first-hand.

Other than that and the intermittent downpours, my day off in the 'Dam was absolutely wonderful. I bought a delicious royal blue dress for 5 Euros, as well as two jumpers and a long skirt at a vintage stall from a gruff Dutch gentleman who seemed livid to be alive. I wandered with Fran around the Nine Streets and saw yet another side to this beautiful city. We talked about boys and life and peace and it was all rather dreamy.

On my return to London I had a fantastic taxi ride back home with a driver called Monty, a Muslim evangelist who lectured me in the most pleasant way, explaining that sleeplessness is caused by unsolved guilt from the past day. I ventured that often I am unable to sleep because of worries about my future rather than stress about my past. 'Ahh,' said Monty, 'but that says more about your present than your future.' A journey to my door paid for by the company and free therapy thrown in - what a bargain. Last night I saw Ses and Em for risotto, wine and ice cream followed by discussions of pornography, fashion, more boys and other gripping topics. A delectable evening.

Now I'm grimacing at this appalling BBC adaptation of Sense & Sensibility while facing up to the new week of work, fun, decisions, surprises and choir practice. It's all go but I feel lucky to have such a heaped plate at this time of year when things are so often dull as ditchwater. Pah, there I go again being all upbeat. Nothing a couple of 6.30am starts won't fix, I'm sure.