I'm really looking forward tomorrow's gig in Darwen, supporting The Daintees. I get to play and I get to see a brilliant band at the same time. Perfect.
I keep noticing Darwen on TV- Heston Blumenthal was there making a giant chocolate biscuit last time I looked. I wonder whether any of tomorrow's audience will have taken a bite of Heston's biscuit (fnurr, fnurr!).
Work caught fire yesterday, and the early birds (dammit, I'd gone in at seven to catch up on some admin) huddled outside a cafe in another building until the fire alarm went off there too (someone burned the toast I think), and we migrated again to a third cafe before being told we had to reschedule everything. So that's a million tutorials booked in for next Thursday; I shall have to take in my gigantic sheepskin unislipper and a flask of hot chocolate.
When you do a day like that you end up with a slightly rabid look about you: dramatically popping eyes, hair awry, lips permanently drawn back from dry teeth, the product of too many smiles. If I didn't love my students so much I would cluster them into easy flocks and dispatch them with easy homilies, or even just email them some General Thoughts.
Sorry, I got distracted: I was talking about Darwen..
My guitar is resting on the settee waiting to be played. I think I will play at least one new song tomorrow; I've been recording skiffle and jazz and even a track which Gina has asked me to do some stuff on, which I've had to break out of my usual neat and tidy boundaries to do (good for me!).
Sometimes I wonder if I'm obsessed by music; there always seems to be something different around the corner and the same artist can make a recording that you really love, and then one that you really can't stand. You can listen to the same song over and over again in a hundred different ways; and there's a that odd thing that happens where a song can be really magic for weeks then suddenly lose its power over you. Why does that happen?