Yes, I shall become a bat.

The journey north felt like a journey deeper into the autumn. Trees near London seemed greener, those nearer Macclesfield more brown. I love this time of year.

The 85 came before the 86, so I slipped into Oddest to touch base with Kate. “I’ve pinned a note to your door,” said Kate, “which says that we’re going to a party. A fancy dress party. Can you find yourself a costume?”

Costume ideas had been floating around my head since the Pemberton Towers party announcement. The theme for that party is Literature, and I’d flirted with the idea of going as a raven, after the Poe poem. Could I do something related?

Yes, I shall become a bat.

I cut wing shapes out of one old black shirt, and sewed them onto the undersides of the arms of another. The bat-shirt will serve me well as the base of my raven shirt –a few feathers and I’m away. With a little help from Dunk, I became a top-hatted, long-eared, wing-tipped, armpit-flapped bat.

We went to Whalley Range with Paulina, to a party where we knew barely a soul. I think I was pissed enough (or short-circuited enough through sleep deprivation and hangovers) to mumble on through various inane conversations before I started to enjoy myself. Little Laura and Roisin were there, and it was nice to talk to Kate Bell too. I met some interesting people, and some very drunk people too.

Kate and I rolled in at about 6am. A heavy night, but a good one.