I had planned on going during their 10 o�clock break (they start at the unfathomably early hour of 7 in the morning, it seems), but the temptation of just lying in bed for an extra hour got the better of me (unsurprisingly).

That meant that I had the chance to check my e-mails before heading down there at 11:30 before their final break of the day, so I just wandered in, said hello to the head, Mrs Rhys, and she sent me through to the library, which has an unexpectedly large collection of Readers Digest and National Geographic and, more interestingly for me, the Buenos Aires Herald and a whole heap of copies of Gaceta del Valle.

After pottering around for a few minutes, I was introduced to some of the first years, who kept me there talking for about half an hour (most of which was me talking, a tactic I recognise from my own days in class!), as I explained what I was doing in Trelew and my workload here.

I had arranged to meet one of my "intercambios" at noon, but was running late and so, literally, running down the street to meet her. I was there about fifteen minutes late. No idea what happened to her - whether she arrived and left or just never turned up. Humph.

Heading back to the house, Rhian had come around for tea with Hawys, and had finished her translation of my questionnaire. Excellent!

I then went round to Alan�s house, to see if he was going to the Bersuit gig that night. He explained that he wasn�t as it was his mum�s birthday, but they invited me round for their birthday tea in the early evening.

I went off to the cyber-cafe to edit the Welsh version of the questionnaire so that Rhian could take another look at it, and then dropped it off at the Welsh nursery to her.

After that, I went round to the Hughes household for tea, Marta, the mother, having previously been the baker for the Vestry, the Welsh tea-house in Esquel. Scrumptious. I sat around and chatted with various members of the family for about 2 and a half hours, trying to understand the rules of the card game Truco (I failed miserably) and changing language with every other person in one of what is probably the most bilingual family groups in the area.

At half eight I left the Hughes house to go to the Bersuit gig being held about twenty blocks away at the Racing Club. Having not know anything about the band (or not much about Argentine music in general), I was rather shocked to see hundreds and thousands milling about outside and a large police presence.

The queue stretched back to the end of the street but was moving swiftly, while I could hear chanting from inside.

After getting past the police cordon and being searched by a spotty teenager with a pistol and a baton, I wandered into the tightly packed venue, trying to find somewhere to stand that I could see the stage.

The atmosphere was electric as the place filled to bursting point in the next ten minutes before the band came on stage, the curtain falling to reveal the eight or nine of them bursting into action to the delight of the crowd.

The crowd cheered. I stood there. The crowd pogoed as one mass of bodies - not much choice what to do in that situation, as I bounced up and down for the best part of two and a half hours as the band moved between quiet ones and loud ones, old favourites and newbies, before finishing with the song which seems to be stuck on repeat in every cafe in town.

The gig finally finished two and a half hours later, and people eventually flooded out into the freezing cold night air and dispersed, most wandering up the main street towards the centre of town, filling up the various kioskos and caf�s which were open to capitalise on the passing trade of the night.

My first gig here. Nice. Went to sleep with a smile on my face and aching calves - I must be too old to pogo.