The days in the run-up to this wretched holiday are busy--especially when you're trying as hard as I am to change your situation in as quick a time as possible. I had a job interview this morning at 9 a.m.--how cruel is that?--conducted in an office in Northampton with a window propped open by a copy of Grey's Anatomy and a lightning storm going on outside: sudden severe lightning flashes, the sky grumbling and downpours of rain so heavy that describing them as torrents barely does them justice. Then I had a six hours shift at the work I'm trying to leave, still wearing the sensible shoes I put on to fake respectability for the interview. My feet had gone numb ten minutes after putting the shoes on and I'd had no feeling in them for the rest of the day. How do people cope with having their appendages so severely constricted? So, in considerable discomfort, I had to travel the 8 or so miles out of town on the bus to Wilby, after I finished work, just to take off those hellish shoes before going back into town on the return bus to meet up with Tim Sansom and go to check out Beat Night. And that's where I'm heading now. I'll be knackered in the morning but my curiosity about the event and the venue won't be denied. I shall report back tomorrow--if I have any time. Thursday will be the last day before I have to troop off down to Somerset and get no sleep, no privacy and no peace and quiet for a week. Can't wait.