It’s gone midnight and we’ve just arrived home. I’m exhausted.

When I was a young woman it was not at all uncommon for me to go out until 4am on a weeknight, snatch a couple of hours sleep and then get up as bright as a daisy for work in the morning. I’d catch up with my sleep by grabbing another couple of hours when I arrived home from work before getting up and doing it all over again.

On one occasion, I actually went to see a gig at the Hacienda in Manchester, some 200 miles from home, I drove because Claz couldn’t at the time. We left there at 2am, drove all night home, getting in at 6am. I’d done a 400 mile round-trip drive, had no sleep and I just showered then got back into the car to go to work.

How did I do that? I have absolutely no idea. These days, I only ever go out midweek if it is something un-missable (Elvis Costello gig for example) or if I don’t have to go to work the following day. Otherwise it is a complete no-go for me because I just find it so hard to function properly after a late night.

Today I had to catch the train to work so DM could have the car (his is in pieces in the garage, a situation that fills me with woe given that when I met him he’d got two VWs in various stages of dis-repair that had taken him years to do). This time around, if he doesn’t get on with it and get the job done, he’s going to find himself shut in the garage until it’s finished!

So, an earlier than normal start to catch the train, followed by a stressful day at work, then a train ride to a station in the middle of nowhere in time to be collected by David and taken to Kate and Dickie’s house to discuss wedding pics. We eventually left their house at 11pm and I belted round the M25 home too fast really but so we could be home by midnight.

The trouble is, driving makes me wired. So, we got home at midnight then I had to sit and watch telly to calm down before eventually going to bed at 1am. Groan!

Last year I was out and about with the team and two years ago it was 'hot in the city'