It was a schoolboy error. There's no other way of putting it. I arranged a couple of weeks ago to take a trip to Oldham, in order to meet a contact, with a view to organising a 'Funday' event in the summer. We arranged to meet yesterday, and, not realising exactly how far it is from London to Oldham, I cheerily agreed to meet at 10.30am, and took it for granted that I'd be able to drive there and back in a day. Oh dear. I consulted the oracle over the weekend (AA Routefinder), and was confronted with a 446 mile round trip. That's further than the distance between London and Glasgow.

I was left with a dilemma. Cancelling was out of the question. Getting a train was now also out of the question, as at this notice I'd have had to take out a second mortgage on my flat to buy a ticket. So, I just had to bite the bullet and drive. But, should I phone this contact of mine and ask to meet later, thus eliminating the need to leave home at 5.30am? Or should I save face, and just go ahead as planned? For me, sleep outweighs personal pride anytime. So I managed to negotiate myself an extra hour. Makes all the difference, and makes me look not-too-stupid. Unfortunately, I was still presented with the prospect of ten hours in the car. Incredibly bad for my posture. Still, at least I had plenty of time to listen to Radio 1, immerse myself in youth culture, and surprise myself with how much of the current chart music I actually like. Old fogey? Moi?