Brighton, by train to the Hanbury Ballroom, staying at the promoter's house. Four sleeping men then five: a dog snoring in the corner. The promoter, over a full English breakfast says: "At least he didn`t lick your face."
The M25 and 3 hours to Leighton Buzzard at the Wheat Sheaf with Roger Dean Young and Tin Cup. Driving back to Junior's house, Junior`s son is in scouts, fully decked-out and we are listening to Bob Harris on the BBC on the Television. Corby corners me in the corner then tells the crowd: "Listen up, you turkey-necked Motherfuckers!" and we party till three till the Barmaid kicks us out and Kerry, from Tin Cup, says come home with us and she doesn`t.
Glasgow, Ron arrives, rain, bloody rain but a thumping good night, last one with the smokers, and kicking, lots of kicking the floorboards.
Bad ass and Ron in the van to Aberdeen, no piss says Siemens, no piss but 35 miles to go so mints all round. I finally brush my teeth, wife texts 'I`m lonely and tired' and I`m getting chicken wings tonight, so Leeds tomorrow. Corby`s folks in Leicester and me getting away from the boys, taking the train from Leeds to London, Leytonstone, 70 quid all the way home.