Take aim

As my cab pulled off FDR Drive, somewhere in the early Hundreds, a low-slung Tomahawk full of black guys came sharking out of lane and sloped in fast right across our bows.

I hate the sleeper - because I never sleep well. Shuddering carriages, screeching whistled, plastic mattresses.

There's a knock at the door at just after six, and I receive my mini highland cooked breakfast. I munch through the tasteless mushrooms, doused in brown sauce. And minutes later we're at Euston.

Jol is still in bed at the flat. There's someone else in there too, but I never meet her - she goes to work while I'm in the shower.

Tracey and Steve arrive before 10 and Jol goes off to see the Pink Floyd exhibition at the V&A. We have a less exciting couple of hours preparing for our meeting with the accountant.

We replenish at the Whitecross Street Market. I get a thali. It's great, but I get turmeric splattered on my white shirt. Never mind - I can be grumpy with accountants just as well with a dirty shirt. And I am.

Later, I meet up with Jol and Aslak at the Queens Head near Kings Cross. A couple of pints later and I'm back on Virgin East Coast for my four and a half hour return journey. I eat a tuna sandwich and watch Blood And Carpets on the in-train entertainment system!

There's a short delay due to a truck colliding with a bridge near Darlington. Who'd have thought it? Anyway, home before one with a lemon sorbet from Asda.