This morning from the train I saw a covey of red-legged partridges and a mad march hare, chasing his long shadow across the field. Two and four magpies promising me joy and a boy. That was the joys of spring, I guess. Ah, never mind. See instead the next blundersome page of the UKCAC diary, as the evening continues and we get ever drunker. We all get fiddlesome with the saucy Victorian-style statuettes, but it's andypop I catch best on camera. With Jez, Pete, Mitzi and (errrrrrrm) we jabber on about superhero sex theories, distracting me from my overwhelming desire to draw on the tablecloths. When they chuck us out of the dining room we sit in the foyer; by 3am it's just Matt (D'Israeli), Pete, me and the zebra left. Time to stagger to bed ... I can't remember who paid for the hotel room that turned into crash space. Probably not me.