That would be a completely different kind of book.

I manage to drag myself out of bed for a Sitting and even a Picking Things Up session, but have to return to bed at 9:00 because it’s a bit embarrassing to fall off a chair even if it is in the privacy of your own living room. Still that post-flu appalling tiredness thing.

Around my sessions of lying-down semi-conscious I manage to get some of Ness’s fonts done and mailed over to her and start to lay into Pirate Pete in earnest.

Not Pirate Pete in Ernest. That would be a completely different kind of book.

I end up lying pathetically in my bed from 4:00 until 6:00, trying to remind myself to get up and go to the Three Stags because they’ll be very annoyed if I don’t. So drag myself down the stepladder, empty the pan under The Drip (oh, yes, that’s still going on), have a rousing bath, pack up the bass and amp and off to the Stags for 8:00.

Tonight’s session is a good one – the new landlady at the Stags has brought in a proper PA, Glyn is recovered and although we don’t have a rehearsal there’s a bit of energy to the Band Set (finishing up on our version of Caravan) and some nice bits in the jam set, too. It still takes me a while to get a sound that I like from the bass. Someone else calls Mercy, Mercy, Mercy which appears to be a Joe Zawinul tune. I almost work it out for the last head and this time I have the chords in front of me (it appears that I can’t count up to four. Or eight. The fundamental problem lies in the fact that I’m not sure whether it’s four or eight I can’t count up to).

Groovy evening, though, and everyone feels a lot happier and fitter than they did before it started. I even think I might have a job as bassist when I come back from the Purple Turtle with Joan next Monday. We’ll see.