Is there a world record for caffiene intake? If so I think I may have broken it today. After last night’s late working, then late train, then late gym, then late working again when I got home it was well into this morning before I even got to bed. Five and a bit hours later the alarm was screaming and, for once, I woke up right away. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the window so even if I’d wanted to go back to sleep I wouldn’t have been able to.

The idea was to get a space in the car park that doesn’t get locked up at a stupidly early hour in the evening so I could leave the car there and not worry about how I was going to get home after the concert tonight. That was before I knew the council had closed the only sensible alternative (I think so they can build a radio station on the site) and everyone who would have parked there flooded into the spaces I wanted.

So, inevitably, I ended up parked miles away - just as far away, in fact, as I would have done had I stayed in bed an hour longer. I hope a certain Mr Timberlake understands the lengths I have gone to to attend his concert.

It’s truly bizarre getting the train at that time of day. Usually I’m on one around nine when everyone is wearing jeans and t-shirts and reading the Mirror or the Sun. At seven something it’s pin-stripes and copies of the Daily Mail.

I felt very out of place.

Between then and now I’ve spent a day editing copy through heavy-lidded eyes that have drooped at every opportunity. How do people get up at that time of day every day of the week - and worst of all I have to do it again tomorrow so I can be in Bristol just gone eleven.

Anyhow, it was an excuse to make frequent trips to the coffee shop to buy cappaccino and latte and drool over the cakes (not literally, of course, or they’d have thrown me out).

Fortunately the builders outside my window have been unloading yet more scaffolding to block out all the available sunlight for the next two months, which involved parking their lorry in the middle of the street for a good half hour while the other cars and vans screeched to a halt and then leant on their horns.

Ho-hum.

Well, let’s hope the concert is LOUD. Mark has been teaching me the words and will no doubt try and coax some Timberlake dance steps out of me in the hospitality suite. Of course I’ll have to restrain myself - wouldn’t like Mr T to feel all inadequate.

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