Sunday

Wow. This is not a fun morning to wake up to. I didn't think I was too drunk last night, but my head and guts violently disagree - and I get out of bed sluggishly at best. Unfortunately it seems that I had also promised to take the twins out for breakfast too - something, admittedly, I'm looking forward to having not been out for breakfast since the Finsbury Park days - so by 11am we are on our way up Hornsey High Street to a nice-looking cafe we've walked past a few times.

I order the full breakfast and find that it improves my mood and bearing in that way that only the greatest meal man has ever invented can do. But it's not permanent - and by the time we get home I'm happy just to veg out on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon, watching first Le Donk and Scor-Zay-Zee (nice improvised film by Shane Meadows) then Semi-Pro (watchable Will Ferrell sports comedy) before, unbelievably, K and her sister have cracked on the beers again. I can't face it - yet.

I can't stay on the sofa all day because tonight is the Rage Against the Machine victory concert in Finsbury Park - the gig arranged to celebrate the band's song beating the X-Factor to Christmas number one as a result of a Facebook campaign. I was never interested in the campaign particularly beyond finding it quite funny and an interesting experiment in the power of the online mob, but I was definitely interested in a free gig, down the road from my house, which would let me see a band I always slightly regretted never having seen when I was a teenager.

After a spell in the sun in the Faltering Fullback's wonderful beer garden, we assemble a large group and head up to the park. Swarming with people, it's even stranger than yesterday and feels like a proper festival site. The weather is odd - very warm but then suddenly raining for a bit - and I'm glad I brought my coat.

During the afternoon we watch the supports - Gallows (OK-ish old-fashioned punk band), Roots Manuva (someone I've liked for a long time, but only gets a reaction during Witness) and Gogol Bordello, who are 'wacky' and do absolutely nothing for me. Never mind - as Rage come on just as the sun goes down. Inevitably, every song is exciting to hear live and a reminder of what a great fun band they always were. They also seem to be enjoying themselves and revelling in the silliness of the Simon Cowell-baiting, particularly before coming on to perform Killing in the Name as their sole encore.

We walk home (what a treat - take that tube-idiots) up Green Lanes and grab a nasty burger before finally collapsing for the weekend. It has been, it must be said, another heavy one.