Los Angeles, CA

Ah, this is the life. A typical LA breakfast – granola, fresh fruit, yoghurt, OJ, strong coffee – and then getting stuck into a hard day at the office; the office being 75 degrees by the pool. Both Paul and I whip out our laptops and for three hours or so the pair of us sit side by side on sun loungers, plugged into our virtual worlds, headphones playing the new Lady Antebellum album to familiarise ourselves fully with our subjects, as he writes an article and I wade through the 127 emails that have appeared overnight.

Of course, the minute I start replying, a whole bunch more start pouring into the inbox, and then as the UK finishes for the day, all the LA-based EMI people start firing off emails making arrangements for interviews, meetings and more. By midday my laptop has run out of juice, so I switch to blackberry and finish off the final bits of correspondence. And then… well, there's a few hours to kill before we have to meet the band so what else am I supposed to do but slap on the suncream, gaze out over the Hollywood Hills, grab a book and soak up some rays.

I debate a dip in the pool, but this being LA and there being some beautiful people around, I decide that I need to hit the gym before that can happen! So I pound the cross trainer for 30minutes and feel very virtuous, having had a salad for lunch washed down with Perrier. None of that deep-fried Chicago nonsense here!

Paul and I meet at 5.30 and walk over to the Sunset Marquis; the traditional haunt of rock stars and beloved hotel of UK expats. As we enter we almost bump into a large lady of a certain age, who’s obviously had a bit of work done. Neither Paul nor I are 100% certain, but we think it’s one or other of the Wilson sisters – singers of soft-rock legends Heart. We plump for Nancy and almost start singing, "How could I get you Alone", in her honour.

There’s no debating the next person to cross the lobby though. Brandon Flowers, lead singer of The Killers, and all round sex symbol, is looking decidedly dressed-down, and in need of a shave. He’s checking out, or checking in – short of acting like stalkers we can’t work out which – but before we can gawp further while nonchalantly ignoring him at the same time (it’s an art), I suddenly get a text from Emma, my colleague, summoning us to Villa 50.

We head over there, through the gardens outside the villas which were refurbed to the tune of $30 million dollars two years ago and stumble across a film crew setting up. Lady Antebellum are five minutes away and Emma and the crew are getting ready to film an interview for international promo usage. We have a sneaky look around the enormous bathroom and then before we know it, in walk Hilary, Dave and Charles - Lady Antebellum

This is the biggest group in America right now – 2 million albums sold in as many months, 3 million singles; number one Grammy Award winning superstars who’ve been catapulted to overnight success. The album comes out in the UK next month so I’m here with the Sunday Times and The Sun to do interviews.

We get off to a great start – the band are lovely people, looking very glamorous having just come from recording the Jay Leno show, so dressed in finery and very well groomed. Charles is about 7 feet tall and looms over my less than statuesque frame as he reaches for the cheese plate laid out for them, but the conversation is easy and relaxed and they’re genuinely thrilled that we’ve come from the UK to hang out with them and get the publicity ball rolling around the world.

Mindful that they need to start the interview and aware that we’re there just to say a quick hello before the main event tomorrow, I babble on in typical PR style and start making excuses to leave, finishing with the classic, “so we’ll get out of your hair as we’ve got better things to do than hang around all day with you.”

Emma looks at me with horror, worried that my attempt at easy jocularity may just backfire, but fortunately they seem to get the fact that it’s just my 'quirky English sense of humour’ and we beat a hasty retreat. Phew!

About an hour later I hook up with Dave by the pool and have a great chat about forthcoming UK promo, the craziness of their schedule right now, the kind of music they’re into, good places to get food in LA and a whole lot more and he seems a genuinely charming man; a little overwhelmed by the speed of their success but taking each day and each opportunity as it comes in the middle of the whirlwind of fame that’s swirling around them.

After spending time with Lady A we meet up with another EMI colleague, Chanel, who’s overseeing the Eli “Paperboy” Reed project, and is eager to hear how Chicago went. As we chat the likes of Estelle, Gabriel Byrne (very dapper with script in hand) and some random tattooed rock band, who look famous but a bit too identikit, all wander through the hotel.

By now it’s 8.30pm and we decide that dinner is calling so along with my lovely friend Danielle (ex-Capitol Records, now with a company called Band Merch who have a deal with EMI for, erm, band merchandising) we head to Bar Marmont for one of the best steaks I’ve ever tasted. We round off the evening with a drink just up the hill at the Chateau Marmont, one of the original rock’n’roll hotels which, amongst many other claims to notoriety, is famous for John Belushi OD’ing there.

The faux-gothic hotel, with its grand mock castle bar, and surprisingly small garden restaurant, is filled with actors, photographers, musicians, PRs, directors and glammed-up starlets all planning, plotting and proclaiming future projects and success – typical Hollywood promises that in the cold light of day come to naught. We sink into a sofa and before I know it, midnight has come and gone and I’m falling asleep in front of everyone.

Eager to be fresh for tomorrow’s main event with Lady Antebellum – their performance on American Idol which we’re here to cover – it’s time to call it a night and head back to our hotel. Work done and dusted for another day.