Washington DC, District of Columbia

5pm on the button I get down to the lobby and just a few minutes later Corinne emerges from the lift. She introduces me to Wynnie, who works for the Grammy Foundation; the charitable organisation set up by the Grammy Awards. Wynnie is part of minor US musical heritage, being the grand-daughter of one the actors in Disney's Mary Poppins, and the mother of an aspirant Broadway actress who's in the running for a role in Glee

We drive uptown to a grand, modernist house owned by one of the most powerful women in America - Debra Lee, CEO of BET (Black Entertainment Television, one of the most influential networks in America), chum of Michelle Obama and Oprah Winfrey and a board member of the Grammys. She's throwing a fundraising party tonight at her brand new mansion and invited the great and good of Washington to support the charity work of the Grammy Foundation.

In the grand glass atrium of the house Steve, John and Luke from Corinne's band are soundchecking. The sound reverberates around the huge space as we enter. This is the kind of house that Kevin McCloud would eulogise over in Grand Designs. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls, slate tiles everywhere, multi-level rooms, a kitchen that would suit a Wolfgang Puck restaurant and even a dedicated wine tasting room with vast chrome and glass chiller cabinets lining the walls.

Out in the garden, which is smaller than expected and arranged into tiered sections, is where the band were meant to be playing, arranged around the hot tub. But the earlier inclement weather has meant a change of plan and thankfully the concert will proceed indoors instead. However there are tables in the garden and two bars, with liveried staff, are already set up and ready to go.

While Corinne joins the soundcheck I chat to Matt from EMI New York, who's on hand to help with arrangements. A fellow Brit he lives and works in the US now and it's always a pleasure to put a face to a name. As we chat, I feel huge waves of tiredness batter me but Matt has the obvious solution. "Let's have a drink!!" he suggests.

Despite my better instincts I agree, knowing that there's at least another four hours to go and unless I get into the swing of things I'll collapse in the corner which would be the height of bad manners. Corinne has already half-jokingly suggested I use the bed in her designated 'dressing room' as I'm so obviously wrecked but I'm not sure that Ms Lee would be quite so enamoured to have some random interloper mess up her Egyptian cotton sheets.

Matt and I sit in the garden, grabbing canapés from the waiting staff (tuna tartare wraps, roast lamb ribs, mozarella-stuffed cherry tomatoes and pineapple chicken blinis) whilst quaffing a fine, spicy Napa Valley Zinfandel. Various guests start to arrive and I'm so thankful I'd packed a decent shirt and trousers. Besuited men and designer-clad women, mostly high-rolling 'people of colour', start milling around, with quite an aura of wealth and power. There are delegates, members of Congress, media moguls and more mere inches away from the two Limey hangers-on freeloading away. They've all paid at least $500 a head for the invite to hear Corinne sing and mingle in the elevated throng; money that goes straight to the Grammy's good works.

But thankfully before we're too conspicuous, a couple more EMI-ers from NYC arrive. Wanda and Zach, who until now have just been names on emails to me, are splendid company and the four of us have a great time being mischievous and gossipy until we are all summoned back into the house for Corinne's performance.

A speech to thank everyone for coming reveals that tonight has raised over $60,000 for charity, which is roundly applauded, then Corinne takes to the stage and plays a wonderfully intimate set. Most of the songs are from the new album 'The Sea' and really entrance the crowd who seem mesmerised by her.

At one stage, the bow at the front of her outfit comes loose, and as she re-ties it she tells everyone she wore the same trouser suit 10 days ago at another event, singing alongside Stevie Wonder, Elvis Costello and Paul McCartney at an event at the White House to honour the ex-Beatle. "It's a Stella McCartney," she tells the crowd, "so I thought I'd wear it again tonight as my lucky Washington DC dress".

After the gig finishes we all retire to another bar set up on a terrace and eat ice-creams and cheesecake lollipops as the wine continues to flow. A large, jovial woman of later years joins myself, Luke and John to flirt outrageously and tell tales of being a model at the start of the '80s when she was chased around the world by millionaire married men with whom she'd have affairs. One Italian even took her all expenses paid to Peru so she could experience the mystical magic of Machu Picchu. "The old sucker," she chuckles. "But he was damn fine in bed!!"

Unfortunately the laughter and bonhomie end up with me getting splashed with red wine on my lovely Nigel Hall shirt. Not a good look. Fortunately, Ms Lee's tattooed housekeeper, leads me to the kitchen and as I unbutton the top she mops me down with San Pellegrino water (the white wine is too expensive to waste) and the stain almost disappears.

However, as I emerge wet and re-adjusting myself while thanking this red-haired woman, Matt catches us in flagrante and does the most comical double-take in years. Smiling mysteriously I swan past leaving his febrile imagination to conjure up an image of just what the pair of us were doing in the kitchen!!

It's time to leave and while I plead to be allowed to go back to the hotel and sleep ahead of our 4.30am pick up to the airport, everyone else has other ideas and I get kidnapped and taken in a taxi to a Washington restaurant near the hotel called Circa. Wanda, Zach, Matt, Corinne and her band all start ordering pizzas, tequila, mojitos and beer. I try to get a diet coke but get served more wine instead.

Eventually, with Corinne needing to be up at the same time as me and Matt, Zach and Wanda on a 7am train back to New York, we leave the restaurant and I can finally go to bed. It's nearly 1.30 in the morning. Just three hours to go. I'm asleep almost before my head hits the pillow.