I am aware that I'm a liability when manic. Ironically the hideous lows that follow are accompanied by self-loathing which makes the reflection period a bit like watching an EastEnders' Christmas special with your eyelids staples back whilst sitting on a block of ice.
It's Monday morning and I'm walking to work, aware of the riots that took place at the weekend. Getting close to my local high street, Brixton, I am told the whole area has been closed; last night the violence moved south of the river and devastation ensued.
Five years ago the press were all talk of what a police state Britain was becoming with CCTV cameras, tightened national security and identity cards. Now four year prison sentences are being handed out to young people creating events on Facebook that nobody's showing up to.