Touch Me, I'm Sick.

A 4am finish tends to make for a late start and a fairly fruitless following day and so it proved. I felt jaded through booze and the shenanigans of the previous evening.

Most of Portland's museums don't open Mondays anyway so we took a gentle stroll down to Pioneer Courthouse Square, posed with the animal statues of the Beaver state, and wondered if the dude soliciting for a wife would get much joy.

At Tom McCall Waterfront Park we admired the mighty bridges spanning the Williamette and dodged bicycles and skateboards. More than a few homeless guys were catching a nap. I was tempted to join them.

Instead we rocked up in the Old Town. The architecture had a Wild West/frontier feel. Eschewing Darcelle the female impersonator we took in the view and some rooftop drinks in a bar whose toilets contained the rather odd newspaper excerpts below.

Back at the hotel I chatted briefly to Shirley from North Carolina as the staff fixed my door again. How frustrating. It ate into a big chunk of what was already a small day.

At a pizza'n'karaoke bar I sang Mudhoney's Touch Me, I'm Sick. I was terrible and glad most of my friends were 6000 miles away. The full band shredded the tune though and I was most taken with the drummer's skinny tie and suit get up. He looked like he was in The Cars.

Simon's red and black Dennis the Menace t-shirt and enthusiastic stage footwork during Crazy Horses and Rhinestone Cowboy gave the illusion of a Sensational Alex Harvey Band gig.

It hadn't been the most productive day but we'd laughed a lot and that can't be a total waste. Can it?