It took a while to find a lighter.

Hidden by the bright wash of daylight, Prague's centuries-old architecture shines in the night. Special multi-colour light designs throw extra beauty onto the facades of brilliant constructions; shrines to religion and power glimmer in bright blue and purple, reflecting in the surrounding rivers, shooting their brilliance into the starry sky. It was while walking through Prague's old town at midnight last night that I happened to muse aloud, 'You know what? This would be so amazing stoned.'

Will agreed immediately. John, prevented by work from engaging in such extravagances, abstained - but still agreed.

It was half an hour later, while bypassing the heady tourist spots across the water, that we noticed that very pleasant scent wafting toward us from local passers-by. 'We should ask them,' said John. Then, before we had a chance to stop him,

'Hey! How are you? You guys got any more?'

Then, from Will: 'Do you speak English?'

We were called over. Will and I went, and asked if we could pay for some of their prized possession. Instead, the tall blonde Czech simply offered us some of what he had already rolled. Then, spiritedly, he gave us the rest of his pouch.

'How much do we owe you?'

'Nothing!' he cried.

'Can we buy you a drink?'

'No!'

He waved his arm across his chest, and without a further word he and his companions were gone.

So, in front of a synagogue, and (as we later discovered) within metres of a stationed police patrol, Will and I smoked weed on the streets of Prague.

I slept quite well last night.