I'm sitting in a hotel room when I should be singing at the Gosforth Hotel.
Martin organised a reunion of Newcastle punk bands and they are all there and I was going to sing a Chefs song but...
I have only just got here: it took more than 9 hours to drive here today and my head is still somewhere near Sheffield, eating a panini, although my body must be here, because I'm typing this.
At one point, it took me three hours to drive six miles.
They have closed part of the A1.
Only problem is, they don't tell you that until it's too late to get off it and on to the M1.
I now know Rutland like the back of my hand!
I only almost cried when I drove into the back of a massive pickup truck and a human pig got out with a face like thunder.
His boorish truck was unmarked, thankfully. I drove like the fairy on the top of the Christmas tree after that.
Only 9 hours? Somehow I managed to listen to four days worth of songs on my iPod!
Come to our gig at the Cluny 2 tomorrow night!