Waking up with a mouth like the inside of an alcoholic's coke can, I realised I had to feel better to travel to London. I'd been out in Doncaster with friends the night before, first to an Indian called the Taj Cottage and then into town, to observe how 17 year old metal-heads party nowadays. I felt better after a walk down Water Lane with Dan and Sam, by which time it was necessary to set off in the car with my mum to Doncaster train station. After waving mum goodbye, I boarded the train and decided to listen to some new music I had ripped off Sean's computer, discovering Boards of Canada and The Tallest Man on Earth whilst reading the latest National Geographic. Except from some confusion due to my usual poor planning at King's Cross, I got to the holiday Inn at Luton Airport easily enough and had a quick wash, before meeting my new pals Kate and Stef in the bar for a beer.

After dinner and another beer we realise we're up at 5:00 for our flight and as it is 10:30 we call it a night. I decide I need supplies and trek to the 'local' Asda, which the receptionist quotes at about 15 to 20 minutes on foot to get to. I jog and walk for 40 minutes, get a bit lost, have a sleepy and long conversation with my girlfriend and then finally find the supermarket. By the time I'm back my legs hurt, I'm soaking and its midnight. I crawl into bed with wet hair and switch off the light, longing for a good night's sleep and achieving what feels like a siesta. Oh well, I should be able to deal with these things, I'm only 23. Until tomorrow.