Time was I could pop 3-4 ecstasy pills in a night, snort some speed, do some coke and end up with a spliff to make me sleepy. It wasn't that long ago. I could club all night, sleep all day.

But last week, at the Notting Hill carnival, I had the worst experience. I wasn't sick, I didn't have a bad trip, no, I lost 8 hours. I don't know what I did, where I was, how I got home or how I got into bed. I don't remember phoning people, I don't remember drinking, I don't remember spending the 20 pounds missing from my wallet. I don't remember smoking 60 Marlboro lights.

I do remember the next day. I don't remember the world being too bright and movement being an effort. I do remember having very weird legs.

I'm 30. Now I can admit it to myself.

I'm off to put my slippers on, and watch documentaries.