I have not been wholly together. I'm speaking at an IPPR event, "Do we have the media we deserve" on Tuesday and so most of my train journey is spent writing about two minutes of a seven minute speech. I suspect attendees are more likely to be at the event to hear David Blunkett, Gaby Hinsliff and Kevin McGuire in any case.

OK, so I paid the extra £15 for a first class upgrade - I earned me a plug socket for the laptop and some elbow room but no internet connection or at-seat coffee and biscuit service. It seems I am sitting with the only Tory on the train, who asks me to give his regards to Gerry Sutcliffe, whom he knows of old apparently.

I meet Lee Barron, who very kindly gives me an interview, much to the amusement of other nearby passengers. Bump into Alan Keen while queueing for a coffee at the worlds most inefficient buffet car. He tells me about the 11am MPs vs Journos football match on Sunday at the Man City training ground and promises me a post match interview if I pop along - evidently there's another match happening some time this week to promote Sarah Brown's childrens charity.

At Manchester Piccadilly (does that word actually mean something?) I see Alistair Darling's Special Adviser before hopping into a cab to the Manchester College of Art and Technology aka Labour Party Conference Services (late accreditation). Yes, I did apply for my pass rather late in the day and have been dreading the inevitable two hour queue for a pass. However, they have got really efficient this year and it only takes about half an hour, which is spent in the company of familiar comrades (familiar because we tend to meet every year in late accreditation).

One such comrade asks about my hotel arrangements and I have to admit my other dread for the evening. A friend has sorted a few of us out with a Youth Hostel dorm, but I only recently discovered that the room is booked only from sunday night - so I am contemplating sleeping rough for a night! - or spending stupid amounts of cash on a hotel. A woman nearby pipes up that she has a sofabed free for the night and it's mine for the taking and my depth of gratitude is beyond expression.

That woman is Emma Burnell from SERA and I shall endeavour to attend all her events and clap loudly at appropriate times by way of thanks.

I soon discover that Emma's serviced apartment is probably far nicer than the hostel in which I shall be spending the remainder of conference.