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e arrived in Benicassim on the Thursday morning in a mad hurry, driving like the clappers down the motorway to get the keys to the apartment before 2, when the estate agents closed for the day. I nearly killed Lolita on the way up here, she insisted on playing Mariah Carey's We Belong Together on repeat all the bloody way, ignoring my pleas to at least act like a 'Fiber' (Person Who Frequents the FIB) and please put something more trendy on.

But it's The Beau and I's song! She exclaimed. I won't see him for a week! She finally gave in and we put Kasabian's Club Foot on full blast, only to turn it down again when the Estate Agent Lady phoned to say she'd leave the keys in the café next door, which she didn't, so we had to phone, she had to come down, she couldn't remember the number of the building, did we think we could remember? Etc etc. We finally made it into the apartment at about 5pm, dumped bags and things and scooted down to the press office sharpish, where we proceeded to get our photos done for the press passes. Could we look any uglier? I hate having my photo taken, as you may have noticed from my rather obvious anonymity on the site. I now have to walk around for the next four days with a Mrs Potato Face photo to show to all the security guards, and Lolita looks like she's ready to kill and has no neck.

So, good start.

W
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