Why I do not love cider: I have a vague memory of getting on and off the 25 several times last night.
Why I am ambivalent: That's my only memory of the last two hours of last night - everything after the point the thing I was at (first night of new-comedy-for-a-fiver Old Rope's reopening) ended was done under the protection of the booze fairy. I only know when I got home because at that point I sent whatsagirlgotta an incoherent facebook mail, which I only remembered when she replied just now. Also I fortunately woke up about about the right time, because my alarm really wasn't set, and turning up late to work is so yesterday. Actually, this point is sliding towards 'do not love', isn't it?
* As sold by the Brothers Bar in the Jazz World stage in Glastonbury - for a few years my only annual drunk-time was going there with friends on the Thursday and getting hammered on this deceptively tasty pear cider.