I am at an airport. I have missed my flight. On the outward journey I split my luggage with a friend. I realise that on the way back, I have to carry three rucksacks, a drum kit and a ginger cat, with butter on his head.
I use a handheld device to see if there’s a flight tomorrow. I can’t get it to work. I return it to the check in desk, where the facial recognition cannot see me.
I am in a castle. Ellie Williams and me are dressing up in mouse onsies and taking photos of our auras. I post mine online and I am interviewed on the radio about the haunted castle.
I am in another room in the castle, talking with Lauren. There’s a screen with a primitive form of music creation software running on it. I try to use it. It is not touch screen. There’s a keyboard across the room. Juxtaposed wax candles are the keys. It’s very hard to use.
I am outside, walking in mud, in Milton Keynes. A Russian family pass by with their pet wild pigs. The pigs are wet, muddy and very friendly. I realise I’m wearing trainers, despite having wellys.
We walk past a high rise community centre. A woman stops me to give me two CAB leaflets, the most popular, apparently. A small boy tells me exactly how much they cost to produce.
I’m outside the airport. Three relatives I don’t like are in a car, offering me a lift. I decline. A friend is sure I can get home by hitch hiking. I tell them they are insane.