In which I am heard to raise my voice.

Friday 26th October

There may be those amongst you who have been wondering at my decision to stay overnight in my parents' cold and unoccupied house rather than allowing Rainbow to put me up at their expense in a lovely hotel. For those people, I should explain the cunning reason for this - today's first gig was at the Owlcotes Centre in Pudsey, a mere ten minutes drive from the parental home. Had everything gone to plan yesterday, this would have meant a proper night's sleep (a concept that at the moment I'm losing sense of). As it was, it meant a reasonable night's sleep, although my late night journey meant that any plans to stock up with food for the morning went by the board. Thus it was that as soon as I arrived at ASDA this morning, The Lovely Emily took one look at my grey and haggard face and sent me straight off to get myself some breakfast, thereby adding to the wealth of evidence to show that sooner or later all women will feel the need to feed me.

The rest of our entourage arrived shortlt after me and the morning proved to be the busiest and by far the most enjoyable of this week's gigs. It was a real shame that we couldn't stay all day. But no, two appearances and off to Derby for the afternoon. The girls went on ahead whilst The Lovely Emily and I armed ourselves with sandwhiches and buns and set off in pursuit. It is a recognised fact that anyone who spends any time with me will eventually end up sharing in my obsession with buns (a word I use as a generic term for any kind of cakestuff ideally to be had with tea in the mid-afternoon). Either this is due to the irresistably persuasive nature of my personality, or the eating of buns really is as important as I make out and people just jump on the bandwagon out of sheer common sense. Either way, the eating of buns is a joyful aspect of life, which I believe everyone should be introduced to.

So we arrived at Derby to find my fellow roadie absent on business of her own, leaving us to do the first appearance without her. Now, I'm usually a fairly placid and unflappable kind of fellow, but this was enough for me. As soon as we came in, I was on the phone trying to find out what the Hale and Pace was going on. Receiving a damp rag of an excuse I proceded to express my disappointment in some well-chosen and forceful terms. She reappeared shortly afterwards and only the most formal of communication passed between us for the remainder of the afternoon.

And then that was it. The Lovely Emily bid us a fond farewell and bolted for her train and we set sail for home in the hope of never having to see a Ninja Turtle ever again.