Post Break Post

I have written to loads of people and told them the wrong date for the gig at The Source Below in Brewer Street- it's a week today, Monday 26th January, 78 Brewer Street, and it's £6/£4 and I'm on at 8.45.
Not surprising, as I was going a bit bonkers with work etc and had taken to buying wild cowboy gear online. A rather nice bolo tie featuring a celluloid cowboy on a bucking bronco with pink lanyard turned up today, and I believe an extreme cowboy shirt is on its way. Luckily I stopped before I got to the stetson stage, as I would have found it difficult to live with myself had I gone that far. Ol' grandpappy McCookerybook would've been rotating in his Scottish grave, his tartan chest heaving with shame and dissatisfaction, his shabby deerskin sporran quaking with disgust.
As for CDs- Shirley Temple, Camille, Nina Simone, Phil Harris, Eartha Kitt, a bucket of Northern Soul and a Van Morrison compilation are buried under the chocolate teacakes on the side in the kitchen, waiting for a dancing cookathon, at which point they will burst from their cellophane like the Incredible Hulk and leap on the the CD player to shake their shiny round little glass asses! I dare not insert my card into the wall to find out how much money I haven't got, but luckily I don't splurge like this very often, only when the January terrors take me. Perhaps an S.A.D. lightbox would have been better.
Perhaps not: you can't dance to those.

I have been away for a couple of days and am now calm and studious again. My plan after Hamilton Square ( a nanosecond away from being finished, just needs polishing and the cover design finalised) has found a record company home, is to sell a lot of my stuff on eBay so I can go to New York and record my next solo project at Tom's studio. I do quite fancy having a stab at doing a bit of analogue recording in London though, so I probably will, once the January Gas Bill (urgh) has arrived and been disposed of. My fingers have missed my guitar, but I haven't had any wild inspiration while away although sometimes these things take a while to filter through and explode into your head at dawn.

Ah Bisto!
O for a fountain of endless style and solid substance and an abundance of energy to plunge into it with...

A cleaner would help.