The curse of Onan?

Or have I touched dog shit and not washed my hands? Or is it the hangover? Or am I just getting old?

Sometimes my eyes just fail. I was walking down the corridor and a colleague was stood in a doorway staring in my direction. But I couldn't tell if she was smiling or looking behind me or at me or what - everything was blurred. So I half-looked and half-smiled to hedge my bets.

On last night's tube I was checking out a small, beautiful, frowning girl. It developed into such naughty eyeballing I almost cracked up. She likely inspires a lot of hopeful messages to the London Paper lovestruck feature.

And there's a nice IT technicienne who came into work today. I thought about trying to amuse her but, right under the bosses nose, it would have taken more chutzpah than I possess.