At 8am, this makes a good cooked breakfast. Not actually this one, but one very like it. Yum. Though this wasn't so much to fuel the start of a new day, as to cap off the previous one.

The Confused Blues were playing their last gig of the year. Good friends, good music, copious dancing and more sweat than a sauna-bound sumo wrestler's armpit. After two encores they call it a night at around 12:30am. Dave, Rosie an I make use of the readily available sea side charms, by having a quick paddle. But aye, the night is young.

Titanic anyone? Oh yes. And Eurovision album listening. And walking up Pen Dinas to see the 'sun rise'. And meeting Thwaites in town. And some Father Ted while waiting for the cafe to open at 8am. And a fine full english cooked breakfast.

Then bed.