Our outing is set for the afternoon, but it's five past five and I'm up thinking about it. Morning rituals are replaced by a jittery blur, as I try to picture the scene in my mind. Several hours to go, and I still find time fixed on that hallowed hour. I iron my best shirt, and devote time to finding the best accompanying soundtrack. The last failed weekend of boredom and nihilism is a distant memory, and I'd almost say there's a spring in my step. I'm doing this because I want to help out someone who's feeling alone, I remember thinking. I couldn't have been more right.