PULL!

Published on Fri 6 Aug 2010

I think I've broken my toes. The other day I was dreaming that I was involved in some kind of martial arts contest just as I was waking up and I kicked the end of the bed really hard. I also keep hurting my foot by playing squash, trying hard and being fat. This must be how Andrew Flintoff felt.

On Saturday a group of us went clay pigeon shooting for Dave's stag do. I've not done it before - the closest I've come was ruining a paper target with a pump action shotgun in Las Vegas a few months ago. The gun we got this time was significantly less powerful, but I think our shoulders would've been destroyed by the recoil quite quickly with anything meatier.

We went in three cars for the 20 minute journey, not in convoy and each one using a different navigation technology (google map, satnav, blind faith in things working out for the best) and, somehow, every single car got lost in exactly the same way, ending up in some ghastly newly built town called Red Lodge. I think the problem was that the shooting was part of a general outdoor activity centre and it didn't say that anywhere or mention it on the signs.

Even once we established that we were in the right place we managed to get lost trying to find reception. I don't think we'd make it in a real combat situation. Or maybe we would on account of not being able to locate the battle.

When we finally found the place the worryingly young instructor guy asked if anyone had shot before. Even though lots of us had, all but one of us said they hadn't, I think on the grounds that you generally look like an idiot if you claim to be an expert at something to someone who actually is. My friend, and joint best man, Will said later on "the only gun I've shot is an M-16, what was I meant to say?". Predictably the guy who said he'd done it before didn't hit anything for ages. Never admit to knowledge. Clay pigeon shooting is fun - it's really satisfying when you hit the clay in the middle and it flies apart in all directions. I was probably about average in the group at it, but I found that I hit them more often when I didn't really think about what I was doing rather than going "wait for it to peak then aim down a bit". I could never tell what I'd done wrong when I missed. As usual when taking part in activities, I didn't look terrible graceful...

I'd definitely go again - I like firing guns. Appropriately, Dave won the competition after a seemingly endless sudden death deciding round in which he and joint best man Joel kept hitting everything for ages. It was impressive. I blame their public school education.

Last Thursday I went to see Mark Kozelek at the Union Chapel in Islington. Even when covered in scaffolding it's a beautiful building. There's a new Sun Kil Moon album out apparently, but I've not heard it (because it's not on Spotify and the last one was disappointing so I've not been moved to buy it). I like the albums, but each of them only has a handful of really great songs on. Live is a different proposition, I think because you have to give him all of your attention, so even the less gripping songs are completely absorbing because he makes such a lovely sound. I think Kozelek sets are among the times I get to think most deeply. It's the first professional gig I've ever been to with no support act I think, presumably because he needs the money (he used needing the money as an excuse for having to endlessly tune his own guitar at one point rather than having a guy to do it) though the place was rammed - much busier than lots of the other times I've seen him - we cut it a bit fine due to hanging around in the Hope and Anchor beforehand so were right at the back of the balcony. He was in an unusually good mood, which I'm not sure I approved of. He didn't tell anyone off at all, nor did he complain about the way all his fans outside London "wear fucking backpacks" and I think he may have even made a joke at one point.

One odd thing is the abrupt way he ends the songs. It's as if he gets to the last chord and it no longer interests him, so instead of letting it ring out like anyone else would he mutes it after about a second. It almost sounds apologetic. I notice it every time then forget.

I'm finishing this off in the departure area of Heathrow, waiting to go to New York again. I'm going to Sweden the day after I get back. When did I become so ridiculous? Life feels pretty good right now though.