Got back to London after a few days up north to celebrate my Gran's 90th birthday (she spent the weekend looking alternatively thrilled then bewildered).

Within moments of my arrival in the capital city, I was approached by a shall we say dapper man, who asked if I'd been at the Monet art conference (no) and was I an art historian (no). I'm not sure why he continued with the second question after my negative first answer.

The next person I saw was a man evacuating the contents of his left nostril on the pavement, by holding his right nostril then blowing hard.

If you're tired of London?