I had one of those mornings when I didn’t want to get out of bed, hating my new role as producer. I wandered round town in the rain, half-heartedly looking for inspiration for demon armour alternatives. I went to the station to try and plead with the manager. Before Christmas he’d said we could only shoot until 5:30pm, and these days it’s barely dark by then. I had investigated closed railway lines further afield, like East Lancashire Railway and another one in Loughborough, but they all wanted too much money and their stations were preserved in fifties condition.

Hereford’s Station Manager wasn’t there, so I trudged away and tried again an hour later. This time he was there. I got as far as “I’m Neil Oseman…” before I was interrupted by “Ah, the film shoot – when do you want to do it? You’ll have to be done by 10pm.” He even didn’t mind us setting up lights, which I had suspected might be a big no-no for health and safety reasons.

Then I went to Rural Media where I bumped into Stephen Broadfield, co-ordinator of MediaDev. He asked how the film was going and I told him we were in dire financial straits. He said he’d ring Screen West Midlands and try to get them to give me UKP2,000. Very kind of him, but I haven’t heard anything more so I guess they weren’t having it.

After lunch I sat down at the edit suite and tried to do something with the cut of last weekend’s footage, which had wound up looking decidely pants. I realised I’d made a big directorial smeg-up, totally recut it and an hour later had a really good scene.

Shane Styen, the man with no fear, came over later on to take a look at some possible buildings for his three storey jump. We collared the custodian of Market Hall and asked him right there if Shane could jump off the top. I’m not sure exactly what he said, since he had a very broad country accent, but it was accompanied by a shaking of the head. A little later I went into the O2 mobile phone shop. “Welcome to O2,” said the shop assistant. “This is a very a strange request,” I began, and I wasn’t lying. The manager’s going to call me tomorrow.

The Smallness of Hereford, case study no. 8745: I went to the Plough Inn last night, as Jason had told me that they had bands on there and I could maybe use it for the King Monkey shots. I explained to the barmaid what I wanted to do. “Are you Neil Oseman?” she asked. Turns out she’s the sister of Craig Whyte, one of our runners.