The day starts just after twelve with large omelettes at the ‘Frothy Monkey’ (my friends, I don’t name these places…). After ‘breakfast’ I announce that, as much as I adore the lads, if I have to look at their idiot faces for one second more I’m going to go completely berserk. We therefore suggest a temporary parting of the ways, getting out of each other’s pockets for the afternoon, exploring a bit more of Nashville and avoiding a mass brawl.. (avoiding a mass brawl which includes Andthesea and The Big Man is of paramount importance).

Some head to the Tennessee State Museum, others to the Johnny Cash Museum and a few souvenir shops. Personally, I toddle gingerly across to the Country Music Hall of Fame – a vast temple dedicated to all things country. Even if, like me, one’s knowledge of the genre is somewhat limited, it’s a highly interesting visit and a damn fine set-up.

Heading back to the hostel I have the bright idea of taking a wee nap, recharging the old batteries etc. after a couple of sensationally heavyweight nights. Entering the dorm I discover that this plan has been mirrored by all five of the lads – so the band is quickly reunited by the sweet seduction of Morpheus…or by something less pretentious.. I can’t remember which.

*

It being the Sabbath and all, we plan a slightly quieter night: a nice bit of food, some live music perhaps, nothing too wild. That, in actual fact, it turned out to be bacchanalian in the extreme, with levels of debauchery not seen since the last days of Rome, is quite irrelevant. The intention was there – that is what matters.

We start off at Puckett’s for Southern food and a bit of music. I instantly fall head over heels for the singer, bringing the total of women I’ve fallen in love with on this trip to a round dozen. She does, in fact, come to our table for a chat after the set..but by this point I have other concerns at the forefront of my mind: for five of us have ordered a house specialty called ‘Piggy Mac’. [The Big Man, with uncharacteristic culinary wisdom, has dodged this gastronomic bullet.] Two bites in I know I’m in trouble, and by the time the lovely Rachael swings by to say ‘Howdy’ I’m in a fight for my life…

It is a rich combination of pulled pork and mac & cheese – unspeakably delicious, but severely challenging. I must admit that, for the first time on the holiday, I was comprehensively defeated, as was The Eagle and even that old two-meter Andthesea. The victorious Piggy Mac was boxed up and sent back to the hostel. I collect myself and ask Rachael the singer to marry me. She says that she’ll think about it and maybe see us at our next stop, The Stage on Broadway.

Now up until this point we had seen some decent Nashville acts..and some pretty abject performances (here’s looking at you, Johnny Carter-Cash). However, the band at The Stage this night are absolutely fantastic. The lead singer often goes onto radio mic and strolls around the dance floor, master of all he surveys, flirting with girls and shaking his tip-bucket. The fiddler and lead guitar hit song after song out of the park, and they even let a drunken businessman from St Louis on stage (after a cheeky $50 bill changes hands) to perform a spirited country rendition of ‘Gin and Juice’. All the hits are sung and they play late, late, late into the night.

*

5.45am, The Eagle (half-cut) and I wreak a terrible vengeance on the surviving Piggy Mac back at the hostel. It may have won the first battle, but the war…the war it very much lost. What. A Night. And what a city. Time to pass out, methinks.