But it's hard to get by when your arse is the size of a small country

Monday

I felt like having a bit of a home day today – can’t keep this mad capering going without the occasional pause for reflection. In addition, the wretched humidity was kicking in again, and that tends to bring on the old lethargy in buckets. So, I spent some time emailing all the lovely people who have been so kind to write to me. Feeling stickier than a stickinsect, I whacked up the air-conditioning in the bedroom, shut the door for half and hour and then went in there and did some ice-skating. It was like being slammed in the cooler. I did some incredibly deep and moving writing for a couple of hours, and then slipped into unconsciousness, and woke up with frosted eyebrows.

Then off to the Bowery Ballroom to see the divine Divine Comedy. After some seriously good support acts at the Electralane gig last week, we decided to get there in plenty of time to catch the two songstresses Amy Correia and Polly Paulusma. Talented people though they were, after the joys of Scout Nibblett we were left feeling short-changed. Never mind, an extremely good excuse to sip beer in the funky old bar downstairs. By the time we went back upstairs for The Divine Comedy, the place was heaving and we had a spot of bother finding somewhere to stand with a clear view where we weren’t stepping on anybody’s espadrilles. Success was ours, and the gig was highly enjoyable. A lot of tracks from the Absent Friends album, every one a gem, and some quirky old stuff too. Marvellous. An amusing ‘request spot’ included Blur’s Song 2, We Are The Champions and even a touch of the Scissor Sisters – inspired madness and tomfoolery.

On leaving the venue, we completely failed to find the subway. As a result, we walked the whole way home and collapsed with aching corns and running pustules – not pretty.