London, United Kingdom

There's no faster way to travel on land than Shanghai's Maglev train to the airport. Reaching 431km an hour it speeds you from Longyang train station to the international airport in just eight minutes, the fastest form of ground transport on earth. However we've been warned traffic to the station could be horrendous due to rush hour so give ourselves plenty of time to get the Maglev. Far, far too much in fact.

Battling the onset of a summer cold which has taken advantage of my rundown body, I'm feeling less than pukka during our 7am taxi ride to the Maglev terminus. John and Alex later tell me I look like shite, white-faced and sweating, as the virus courses through my veins bringing with it a fiery, scratchy throat and enflamed sinuses in mere minutes.

By the time we board the bullet-shaped train I'm feeling distinctly hallucinogenic, so much so that when the onboard speedometer races upwards and then starts flashing back and forth between 300 and 301km/hr I think my brain is playing tricks on me. But no, the guys confirm that we have been cheated. Instead of setting our own land speed record and hurtling across the face of the planet at over 400km/hr, the Maglev today tops out considerably below. Most disappointing.

We're also so ridiculously early in arriving at the airport that check in isn't even open yet. But thankfully, upstairs we find a very nice restaurant for breakfast with the air of an executive lounge and settle down. The scrambled eggs prove to be pretty much the best meal I've had since we arrived in China and I wash it down with an effervescent Berocca that John digs out of his bag.

Finally on board I stump up an extra £30 to upgrade to roomier seats and stretch out a little to cope with the 13 hour flight home. But after a couple of hours, where I'd just managed to doze off, I'm woken by the sound of clapping. I peer out from under my eye mask and there across the aisle from me is a middle-aged woman doing some kind of tai chi arm exercise that involves slapping her hands together.

All around me, fellow passengers are waking up and looking at her, but nope, she doesn't give a toss for anyone else and just keeps clapping away, utterly unconcerned about the fact she's disturbed everyone in the neighbouring rows. Behind me Alex also stirs and so we both wander down to the back of the plane to find a loo and a drink of water. We've been gone all of five minutes but when we get back Alex already has a Chinese man asleep in his seat. We shake him rudely awake and send him packing.

Unable to get back to sleep I delve into films - The Woman In Black, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo - and eventually after a gruelling and very long flight we arrive into London at 5pm. All three of us agree we've never been so delighted to arrive home.

But there's no rest for the wicked as the next few days are ridiculously busy, taken up with work and fine tuning all the arrangements for Lisbon, whilst battling a ferocious cold that just gets worse as the week progresses.

By the time the alarm goes at 4am on Saturday I'm looking and feeling vile. Fortunately Coman is coming to Lisbon with me so I have just got to get through today and then we can have a few days of fun and relaxation. But the way I'm feeling right now I might not even make it through the day, especially as the band aren't even on until midnight, a full twenty hours away.

In the cab I veer between unconsciousness and misery, dreading the fact I've got to meet a singer whilst suffering with the lurgy. As any music PR knows, the last thing a touring band wants is to be around sick people and singers can be very unimpressed to have a snotty-nosed, flu-ridden idiot trying to say hello before they're due onstage in front of 50,000 people.

But when we meet Emily, the writer for this piece, at Heathrow, she confesses to be similarly suffering. Eek! We're gonna have to wing this one. Fortunately Andy, the photographer, is fine and dandy so we'll hide behind him when the time comes.

The BA flight is nice and easy, departing a gorgeously clear Heathrow at 7.40am with crystal clear views of the south coast of England, the Channel Islands, Brittany and the Bay of Biscay. As we cross Northern Spain clouds hove into view and we descend through them to find Lisbon spread out below us. As we come into land we fly low over Parque Eduardo VII, next to our hotel and where we're due to shoot the band this afternoon.

A new adventure begins.