Tuesday

Though I'm aware this blog is in danger of becoming a graphic record of one man's struggle with a rather annoying cough, a new brand of cough medicine (to replace the placebo-like Benylin and the frankly fucking useless and unnecessarily massive Night Nurse tablets) called Covonia means the best night's sleep in ages - only waking up for a brief fit of rasping tedium at around 5am. I arrive at the office feeling fairly refreshed and report back to the others on the day they missed at the book fair, while attempting to chip away at the rather large pile of work I want to get cleared before I go away on Thursday.

In the afternoon Jess reports from her stint at the fair that she has managed to wangle us tickets to the Canongate Books party tonight, hosted by their publishing-celebrity owner, Jamie Byng. Last year's event was supposedly a pretty brilliant shindig, so we agreed at the time to ensure that we got invites for this year's one. There are a few concerns, however. First is that with the Book Fair such an obvious washout thanks to The Volcano, would anyone of any interest actually be there? Last year we heard reports of actors from The Wire among other 'celebs' - would anyone of that calibre make it out and make themselves available for 'spotting'? We also discover that the party is in Kensal Green, and doesn't start until 10pm. With nothing planned beforehand, it seems a little weird for us to head to West London so late, but resolve that since we've basically waited a year for the chance to go we should give it a try.

I meet Jess, Georgie and Susie at Euston just before 10 and we run to catch the overground to Kensal Green. Not a place I've ever been before, it seems a strangely distant and inaccesible place to have a party - but the pub, when we find it, is an interesting enough place. Huge and sprawling with a nice roof terrace, it seems to be somewhere between its once-unpretentious suburban roots and poncey gastro-pub present - and it's already pretty full. We discover, sadly, on reaching the bar that the free drinks have just run out. I question the barman and ask how the free drinks for a party that started at 10 have run out by 10.15. He laughs, and says "Ten? The free drinks started at 8, mate." Aha. It seems our tickets are good enough for the later part of the evening only - we're not important enough.

The place continues to fill up and gets very hot - and become very much the sort of place I hate drinking. I can't get to the bar and the area around is full of shrieking publishing girls called Felicity hugging and air-kissing. I suggest a move to the roof terrace, where I manage to have a nice chat with Georgie and her visiting friend, Lucy. At this point we realise that we're not at some mega-awesome super-exclusive publishing party - we're at a busy, quite expensive pub miles from home, on a school night. It's all bit, well, shit really.

At around 12.45 we wander outside the front and jump in a minicab which takes Jess, Susie and I back to North London. Arriving home at 1.30 and making sure to fill up on Covonia, I sneak into bed next to K. No more than an hour later I'm coughing my guts up again - and am forced out of bed at around 3.30 by a need to throw up. This cough continues to suck, and I spend the rest of the night on the sofa again. Hmmph.