Baseball bat, probably.

I allow myself a lie in and somehow miss my sitting.

(Slaps self on wrist.)

Some time is spent staring into the computer and trying to get my SansAmp/Power Engine combo to sound like a real amp. Well, actually I get it to sound like a number of real amps, most of them a bit crappy.

(My strategy, for those of you who are fans of the trying-to-make-a-SansAmp-sound-like-a-real-amp thing, is to use even the heavy sounds – called Lead and Normal on my model – but keep the drive knobs turned right down. Trying to get a saturated jazzy sound, but getting a sort of thumming noise instead.)

Phil H comes round and avails himself of my connection to the internet to buy a ticket to Paris next weekend. I was going to accompany him on this trip but have chickened out, quoting moral and financial cowardice. His ideal ticket sells out and disappears from the timetable in the five minutes between selecting it and getting to the payment screen. That’s interactive for you.

Phil then wanders off towards Battersea and a yellow BMW as I wander off towards the gym, where I do my running for an hour thing. An hour! Could fitness be just around the corner? Or someone with a baseball bat? Baseball bat, probably.

Get back and eat too much food. Just to even it out.