Fashionably late, beautifully late, dripping in jewels with diamonds at your feet, irrationally late, debatably late, whispered cocoons of well-spun envy. The art of being late. Something intrinsically alien to me, an acquired taste, inpalatable somehow. And here I am, at maida vale studios next to some band on their coffee break as I consider my two-hour wait. Why the *%# did I not receive the message? Lie-in, my brethren, magic away that jetlag! I stare down distastefully into my swimming pool coffee and hear my mind whir into battle. Find the library, the music you need in a month’s time, Boring Solemnis by someone called Beethoven, use your time…