T minus 6 hours:

just as I'm getting ready to leave work and help Doug move all the gear into the Subway, I get a phone call from him.

"Hey man. There's a bit of a problem. I've locked my keys inside my car."
"What's in your car?"
"Uh, my drums."
"Fuck."
"'Fuck' is right."

So two hours before we're due to soundcheck, our drums are locked in an immobile car a mile and a half away from the venue.

I had a flashback to Josh's phone call - "The washing machine has flooded the kitchen and I won't be there until 9" - 15 minutes before the the doors opened for the Outhouse gig. I fully expect something catastrophic to happen immediately before the next gig, whenever it happens. Dave'll be stranded in Bratislava or something. "Yeah, I got a cheap flight out and now there's been a revolution."

Fortunately the RAC is really good at breaking into cars, and the drums were freed in short order.

[More later, once I manage to get my shit together. I smell like a brewery and suspect I was still drunk when I woke up this morning. Eating only half an arid pie before the gig and then throwing back pints like they're going out of fashion will do that to me. Good times!]