What I did on my holidays was travel round the USA. Not much to tell you. The Bee Gees rule, but you know that already. American radio is dreadful. Record of the trip was Joe Walsh's ''Life's Been Good": so it is possible to live in Southern California and keep a sense of humour; there's hope for the new Eagles LP yet. Not for poor old Dylan, though. He may have lifted our dull provincial spirits last month, but the American response to Street Legal turned out to be an unrelenting disdain. Oh well.

Strangest event of our trip was a concert organised by the Police Employees Federation in Charleston, South Carolina. A country show, of course: Roy Head in his sequins and chest was macho-soppy, Barbara Fairchild in her sequins and chest was ickytough, Joe Stampley in his backwoods beard and jeans was relaxed and nice. Never been to a proper country show before. We get real stars here, but not real audiences—just big boots and narrow ties—so this was my first experience of the relaxed, born again, raucous country music community. I sat in the front row, squashed between big bouffanted women and their silent, sinewy policemen.