Sunday 4 May

When wracked with guilt – ‘Did everyone have a good time lat night?’; ‘Who did I offend by way of neglect, or lack of it?’ – there is no finer companion in drizzly afterthought than Bateman. Together we edge soggy bottoms onto damp tables outside half-closed pubs, smoking roll-ups that while needle-thin are still precision-struck by raindrops every second breath. Sanchez and Honduran Joe deliver a trickle of appreciation from last night’s attendees and this, combined with a few choice dog hairs, has me on better form by the time I meet Mimi outside Crow 2. Dempson and Izzy arrive soon after and enjoy a lengthy chat with our authoress for the very first time, quizzing her about a recent interview with the Good for Sport. I sit back with my bitter, listening to friendships form, and reflect that the world doesn’t always revolve around my good (or bad) self. Some days it’s better that way.