The day off after Liverpool we spent on the coast of Wales in Aberystwyth. Our hotel is about a mile from town so the walk in and out is pleasant enough long as it’s not raining. A path breaks off the road to the left and follows the river into town, between the Wintry-brown water and police station and the football club, as far as the bridge at Bridge Street. It’s not a huge town centre but it’s got a fairly big University up on top of the hill and that’s where we’ll be playing, in the Arts Centre, tomorrow night.

Seaside in Winter; grey, moody, constant. I catch the last hour’s daylight on the promenade, which is a wonderful, natural crescent; a long terrace of classic British resort cream coloured three and four-storeys face out to sea. I walk the length of the beach and pop in to a hotel bar near the cliffs. There’s only myself in there, having a pint, regarding the fading light over the Irish Sea through the bay window. Somewhere I would never be were it not for this touring crack.

Three Scotsmen, residents of the hotel, down working on some contract, come in from the van parked outside after their day’s work. Three thirsty men.

Up along the prom again and I enter the big pier entrance beside the amusement arcade door and follow the signs along the corridor for the bar and restaurant. It’s all carpet and very seaside-resorty with notices up about drinking responsibly, being quiet leaving the premises and being wary of drinks being spiked. The location’s class; out at the end of the pier looking back over the curve of the beach, but the last particles of reflected sunlight have left us by the time I’ve ordered a drink. Still nice though.

Not a very eventful day off but you’ll have those sometimes; after walking back out to the hotel laziness set in and that’s where I stayed, having a couple a drinks with Anthony in the bar before bedtime.