The problem is, I was as good a singer as Tom's old microphone was a microphone. Now he has a new mic, which is better at being a microphone than I am at being a singer: all my flaws are there for the ear to feast on and it's gonna be Hard Work upping the ante and getting to the next level. Roll on the new year, when I hope to finish the vocals. I have decided to do the cover photo in the piano warehouse in Tottenham, if they'll let me, wearing one of Debbi Little's new recycled tablecloth dresses which she's already said she'll lend me.
Last night's gig was a weirdo- in the Bar Latina, perilously difficult to get to; it's a great place though with super staff; the barman came over and gave me 50p after I'd made a fuss about paying 2 quid for a glass of coke. I think he must have thought about it for a while and then decided he agreed it was too expensive- he came over 15 minutes later with a smile.
The acts were different to the normal- I might review them tomorrow but the potatoes are boiling over and I'd better go and tell them off.
Sorry, that should have been turn them off.
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