The pressure tells

After five-and-a-half enjoyable posts, I now have to come onto the third of the tournament I would rather forget about. But I wouldn't get anything out of this blog if I only covered the good bits, and I guess the tone must have become insufferable enough by now, so let's get on to some suffering.

The night before round seven I was hit by insomnia again. I'd survived this ordeal the first time, but adrenaline can only get you so far, and here the exhaustion showed. I was playing Philip Crocker (191/2068), and had prepared a promising, risk-free line against Alekhine's Defence, which he'd played every single time in the database. Yet somehow I knew he was going to differ. Soon I had to face original problems, and played a ridiculous game.

What happened to the person who played the first six rounds? After 9... Ng6 I was on my own, and virtually every move I played after that could be questioned. Before this I'd shown a strong understanding of dynamics in several games, but here it was invisible to me and I played into Black's hands with 10. g3. The capture on g6 is very committal, to be played only if necessary, 13. b5 is appallingly risky, and I then missed an easy tactic which lost a piece and a less obvious way to ensure it didn't matter. The rest was a slaughter.

Lack of sleep is an easy excuse, but at the end of the day Crocker also played well. Like most of my opponents in the later stages of the tournament he didn't let me show my preparation - unfortunately that's what happens when people start to notice you, although I should point out that he played a Caro-Kann again in round 9. The standout move for me was 11... d4, which created a different type of game and one with which I was hopelessly uncomfortable, but he also gave an excellent demonstration of how two pieces can run rings around a rook.

Llandudno is a peninsula, with the sea on each side. The promenade, the hotels and all of the tourist attractions (including the playing venue) are on the east shore, but the west lies almost deserted. In the evening I walked over there and sat for a while, alone, watching the sea. For leading a tournament bigger than you feel you have the right to lead is a lonely experience, hard to describe if you haven't been there. Maybe I've always put too much pressure on myself, but it felt like having a bullseye over my head, and I couldn't believe we'd only played seven rounds. I needed to think; to reset. I was still sharing the lead, and now had to take on the trial by fire, facing the top seed with the wrong colour, but that was a problem for the next day. This time I slept soundly.