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By the time I had got my little lad to sleep, the babysitter ensconced and made my way to the site, there was only an hour to stage time. It was at this point that I met our new guitar player Colin Reid. I had exactly sixty minutes to teach him an hour-long set. Luckily Colin had done his homework and seemed ahead of the game. He is a well-known player from Belfast who has made a couple of cracking instrumental records. After some speed teaching including a particularly awkward 'Bb diminished with an F bass' chord, that's in a new song called 'Wolves', we made our way to the side of the Radio 2 stage. It was obvious that Ez and Booga were going down a storm. My heart sank to just below my boots. Surely this was going to be the scene of a terrible public humiliation. There was no way Colin would remember a note of the set, Eddi was bound to call out songs that neither of us knew and I would probably wet myself in front of an appalled home crowd. After a quick line check (i.e. does the gear work?) for the radio guys we slouched on to the stage at eight fifty.

With the end of my career about to be broadcast over the nation's airwaves I awaited Eddi's first choice of song (we never get around to a set list). She picked a brand new song we hadn't rehearsed. Typical. How long before the first urine filled plastic bottle bounced off my head, I wondered?

At the end of 'Lucky Penny' there was genuine applause. Colin, watching my hands like a hawk had clocked the chords and played some really lovely stuff. I sang a new song and blow me if it didn't sound pretty good. By the time Eddi had sung a spine tingling version of 'Please don't ask me to dance', we were on a roll. On of the reasons I love playing with Ms Reader is that she puts us into these apparently no win situations and before you know it you have a triumph (albeit a slightly ramshackle one) on your hands. By the end of the set we were having a lovely time and it was obvious Colin was going to be a great addition.

We came off stage buzzing and were immediately shepherded over to a mobile studio to be interviewed by Richard Allison. Clutching a bottle of fiercely cheap white wine I burbled away like someone who'd just done a gig. I was awash with that curious mixture of fatigue and adrenaline that can turn a perfectly logical thought in your head into complete bollocks by the time it reaches your gob. Still no one seemed to mind too much. Richard played 'Graceland' the first Bible single and I waxed nostalgic about how it cost forty quid to record and that while we were mixing it, in a long disappeared London studio called Red Shop Recorders, Eddi came down the stairs. This was before she was in Fairground Attraction. At the time she was singing in a quite appalling group called Outbar Squeak. It would be nice to report that she stood at the back of the studio and said "why what a fantastic song, we must work with each other one day". Actually, what she said was "Where's Steve?" " Dunno" said the engineer and she was gone. A mere seven years later we started making records together. Spooky or what. On the way home I caught some of the gig on the car radio. You know, it sounded OK. I went to sleep a very relieved man.

The next morning I got a slightly panicky call from Eddi. Apparently the first act of the day was not going to make it. Their plane was stuck in Spain. Would we like to do another show? After last night's extravaganza I was well up for it. Again I arrived with an hour to ShowTime. This time I was feeling cool and calm. I taught Mr Reid a couple of new tunes and we made our way to the main stage. This was going to be great! Also my kiddies were going to get to see me play. And we were going to get some extra dough. It was almost too good to be true. Of course it was. This performance lacked all the fire of the previous night. Apart from a fantastic solo piece from Colin, it was all a bit humdrum. Bloody showbiz, it always lets you down.

Boo Hewerdine