This morning was one of those mornings that just make you happy to be alive. The sun shone brightly as it rose above the hills to illuminate the city after a night where darkness ruled. The streets filled with people and cars, the chirps of the birds soon to be drowned out by the chitter-chatter of commuters as they made their way to their cubicles.

I was at a champaigne breakfeast with my collegues after finishing nightshift at 7am. Overnight between the group we had dealt with two home invasions, a stabbing, a drive-by shooting and the bruital beating and murder of a five year old (as well as countless low-level emergencies) on what was a fairly quiet Tuesday night.

The practice of having drinks after nightshift is relitively rare. In my year of shift work, I have only been to three such gatherings. Normally everyone is too tired to go out after being up all night and eagre to hit they hay. But every now and then second (or third) wind hits you at just the right time and the time is right. A unique atmosphere is created during drinks after nightshift, and if going out to a resturant (as we did this morning) it is always funny to watch the waitress's reaction as you order a heineken or bourbon with your flap jacks.