Friday night, or rather Saturday morning now, and the music has been loud and constant for several hours. It's not my music, and it's not a neighbour's music. For several hours, the **Rock 'n' Solex** concert slash festival has been under way only a couple of minutes down the road from here.

It's a pity that I wasn't up to date, a pity that no-one told me, and it's a pity that I have exams on Monday. It's at this point that I realise that even though I have quite a few friends at university and surrounds, I don't actually have a best-friend, the kind of friend whom you see often, with whom you've done so much and been to so many evenings. I long for those parties spent talking with really good friends, whom you can trust and would trust with your own life.

After a few hours, the time reaches 1am, and the buzz starts really setting in, the noise is no longer a nuisance, it's a call to rise and live, a call to come and see what's going on, a call to join the party. Failing to resist it, I don my boots, even though I really must get up early to work, even though I'm alone, even though this really isn't my style, I set off to investigate.

It's a shame, I suppose - or in this context, rather good luck - that two passing concert-goers take it upon their moral and civic duty to tell me that it's no place for a lone kid, and that violence of the shaved-head variety is populating the festivity's grounds. Common sense won over, and I changed my bearings for home.

With **Stretch**'s song *Why did you do that?* playing loudly, I still walk with a rhythm in my Doc Marten steps. The buzz is still pretty strong, and for once I long not for my glowing screen, but for times with good friends, fun nights out, and adventure.

In an act of rare religion and faith, I pray that my application for internship at **Last.fm** is seen by favourable eyes, that I might spend a summer of buzz in my heartfelt equivalent to the city that never sleeps: **London**.