Montreal, Canada

It's intriguing the gifts that forgetful hotel guests bequeath to their successors, secreted around hotel rooms where maids don't discover them. I've found porn in a safe in Brazil and a lump of hash in a drawer in Germany, but here in Montreal the gift one amnesiac has left for me to discover is altogether less welcome.

At 5.15am I am klaxoned awake by the alarm clock on the bedside table that the previous occupant had set for themselves and forgotten to deactivate before leaving. It's deafening and as I flail around in the darkness trying to find it I wonder if they've delberately, sadistically done this as an early morning gift to their unsuspecting successor.

I manage to switch it off and settle back down but, oh, the curse of the snooze button! I have merely delayed by ten minutes another reveille which could wake the dead. I resolve to tell the manager that he should instruct his house-keeping staff to check every damn clock upon checkout, but manage to fall asleep before making that grumpy, sleep-deprived phone call.

Breakfast however is a much pleasanter experience. I join Paul at eight o'clock on the sun-drenched terrace next to a carp pond for a bumper buffet that, bizarrely for Canada, includes breakfast burritos. I'm not sure that there's that many Mexicans clamouring for a taste of home in Montreal. But considering this is basically just scrambled egg in a wrap, I'm not sure they'd be reminded of sunrise in Guadalajara as they munch away either.

The blazing sun is another matter altogether though, bringing the fierce heat of Mexico thousands of miles north. As we slap on our sun cream, I ponder my last visit to the city eight and a half years ago in the depths of winter, where in one of the coldest spells in living memory the mercury dipped to minus 50 and we could feel our eyeballs begin to freeze in mere seconds of being outdoors. Today it's factor 50 sunscreen instead!

With a good few hours to go before tonight's interview and show Paul and I set off to explore the Downtown area, wandering along Rue Mansfield to Rue Sherbrooke. Home to museums and galleries, we admire the street art on display and then start the climb into Mont Royal, the park which cover the higher reaches of the mountain from which the city derives its name.

We make it up the initial stages, overtaken by seasoned joggers and hikers with poles, who all seem unburdened by the 30+ degree heat, and arrive at Le Chateau from where we are afforded a fantastic panoramic view of the city. While there I get a phone call detailing an unfolding work crisis that involves me spending the next 30 minutes bargaining hard to ensure something does not get printed that could have disastrous consequences.

Drenched in sweat, dehydrated and trying hard to be discreet on the side of a mountain surrounded by tourists, it's an unnerving start to the day but undeterred Paul and I venture back into the city and stop off at the Marie Reine du Monde cathedral, where if I were a religious man I'd offer a silent prayer for a positive outcome. Instead I cross my fingers and take photos instead!

Leaving Downtown we wander past people doing yoga in Place-Victoria and head over into Vieux Montreal, the Old City, where North American skyscrapers become replaced by European grandeur. Harking back to the founding days of the 1640s when French settlers disembarked here on the St Lawrence River and established their colony, it's pretty and full of charm and character. And at its heart is the Basilica de Notre Dame, one of the most amazing churches in the world. Situated on the Places d'Armes, its exterior was constructed in just four years but the jawdropping interior took ten times as long.

Profoundly beautiful it is quite spectacular and despite having visited it before, nothing quite prepares you for the breathtaking and exquisite decoration that abounds wherever you turn your head.

We spend almost half an hour wandering around and then, hallelujah, I get the call. The presses have stopped turning, the pages been redesigned and potential catastrophe averted at the very last second. Perhaps my two visits to the house of God have been noticed by the man upstairs!

Breathing a huge sigh of relief we continue down Rue Saint-Sulpice past Noel Eternel, a shop devoted to Christmas 365 days a year, and onto Rue Saint-Paul which is filled with restaurants and bars where we can dine al fresco. By now it's 2pm so we choose a pretty eaterie called La Sauvigne and order a couple of much needed Coronas and some deliciously fiery moules et frites.

After an hour or so of relaxed people-watching we continue on our way through Old Montreal, meandering up Place Jacques-Cartier, full of cafes and street artists, past statues and fountains, and then down to the Old Port.

On my last visit huge ships were trapped in ice many metres thick and mooring ropes had vast icicles dripping like stalactites from them. Today in the blazing sunshine the docks are transformed into a marina for summer yachts to head out onto the Great Lakes for pleasure, and the promenade is full of people sun-bathing in the fierce heat.

We arrive back at the hotel just before 4pm and while Paul goes off to his room to prepare for his interview, I go out to the pool and have a quick, cooling dip. It's hardly a tranquil spot, filled with families vacationing noisily and businessmen drinking at the bar, but it's a pleasant enough twenty minutes, and soothes the aching feet after pounding the city streets for hours.

Just after 5pm, we leave the hotel and walk two blocks to tonight's venue, the Bell Centre. We sneak in the back entrance and are soon met by Zeb, the production manager, who sorts our AAA passes and shows us round backstage, taking us to the designated interview rooms and, most importantly of course, catering and hospitality.

While Paul settles down to do his first interview of the trip I catch up with various members of the band and crew who I haven't seen for almost a year, since the last world tour ended in London at the O2.

And then interview done, a beer in hand, Paul and I make our way into the arena to watch the support act, Mr Alice Cooper.