Phone rings. It’s Si. Calling in sick. “Terrible cold mate”, he says. Or "derrible dold made". Luckily I’d prepared an hour set and had an hour mix already in the bag. By the time we’d eaten etc. etc. time was cracking on. Heavy work duties that day and a fabulous prospect of work again in the morning helped the urgency of the recording session crack along at a nice rate. Unfortunately Jon's daughter had a improv visit to the off license around 10 so we managed to get alcohol ed up pretty, pretty late in the evening for us. Hey, we're 50. It was 10pm. It was bed time.