I shouldn't have said that thing about Cambridge's unbeaten run. They immediately lost 5-0 to Altrincham. My fault. Sorry lads.

I did a few songs at a Strawberry Fair benefit at the Portland on Tuesday, in between watching the Liverpool Barcelona game. I was a bit drunk, and it sounded a bit funny, but there was a heckler, which always adds to proceedings because if you can be amusing about it then it gets the audience on your side. My witty response consisted of pointing out that Metallica aren't actually very good on anything other than a sweet level (do you remember those adverts a few years ago for deodorant or something with miniature versions of Paulo DiCanio and Tony Adams wandering around? That's how I picture Metallica. Or four Stewies from Family Guy maybe) and calling him a dick. Twice. Setlist: Watertight, Arseholes, Radio Silence (got it right at last), So Finally a Love Song.

Ever since, until just now, I had a nagging doubt that I'd lost my lucky necklace thingy, because I assumed I'd still be wearing it the next day and I wasn't, but it just turned up by my telly. I'd have had to give up playing if I had lost it. I shouldn't say things like that - it's just tempting people to steal and destroy it.

On Wednesday I made a basic recording of Radio Silence and put it on my myspace instead of Edinburgh. I'm undecided whether to add a percussion track consisting of me closing my bedroom door over and over again, or just leave it as it is.

Thursday was slightly stupid - we went to work in London for the day, as we do sometimes, and, as usual, most of the morning was spent trying to make the internet workin our Waterloo office. Then I went for a nice long lunch with my dad, and returned to find that my laptop, not content with not doing capital vs, has decided that if you press 2 or 3 you get "23", s or d you get "sd" and (and this one is particularly annoying for copying and pasting reasons)  x or c you get "xc". I didn't get much done in the afternoon either... I went to see the Broken Family Band in Camden afterwards with Chris and a couple of the guys from The Pony Collaboration. It's been a while since I've seen them and it was brilliant. It's amazing (in a good way) how popular they seem to be now (not sure how big Koko is - big enough to charge £3.50 for an inexpertly poured can of Kronenbourg - but it was pretty busy) if a bit weird thinking "the first time I heard this song was in The Champion of The Thames". They even played "The Perfect Gentleman", which made me happy.

A few of us went to some indie club at The Junction yesterday where the Futureheads were djing. Didn't like much of what they did, but bonus marks for ignoring the calls for "Hounds of Love" and for playing "You Can Call me Al". The upstairs bit where they were playing comedy 80s metal was better though. There was a live band (Friendly Fires or something) who demonstrated, as if we didn't all know already, that it doesn't matter how poor your tunes or terrible your words, if you vaguely look the part and have a nice loud drummer, the morons will dance.

I'm currently going for the world record number of consecutive mornings I can forget that the light bulb in my bedroom has gone, thereby getting an annoying surprise when I get home in the evening and it's too dark to do anything about it. I've managed 5 so far. And, as I'm sitting on the train going back to London for Christmas, I'm guaranteed to make it at least 9. Though I'm not totally sure they'll count as I won't be getting the annoying surprise. I'll email Norris McWhirter (is he still alive?).

Town has been surprisingly quiet for the last couple of days. I expected more Christmas shoppers. Perhaps everyone is better prepared than me. The fog that's been enveloping the entire place finally went away today. I reckon I feel the least festive that I've ever felt at Christmas this time round, and that's saying something. It's like it's this big annoying thing holding everything else up and generally getting in the way. Or maybe I'm just using it as an excuse to not do anything productive. I suppose, in its favour, it has been an excuse for some decent nights out. Not that I really need one. And another thing - does anybody actually like Christmas pudding? Or mince pies? And is turkey not the least nice of meats? Traditions are funny things aren't they. Crackers for example. I reckon they must date back to a time when people were much more easily amused. Mind you, I expect I'll be watching Strictly Come Dancing later.

I had a good time at the Boathouse Xmas Special Open Mic(TM) last night. The standard was really high (Jade, Irene Rae, Pale Marble Movie, Karmadillo (especially the in-between song bickering like an old married couple) and Kevin Hunt were all very good). Everyone had to do a Christmas song. At first I thought I might do In The Bleak Midwinter, because it's my favourite carol, then I thought Nothing But A Child by Steve Earle, because it's so pretty (if a bit cheesy and obscure), but eventually I settled on Christmas Time (Don't Let The Bells End) by The Darkness, on the grounds that I heard a story that the whole point of writing it was to try and get a school choir to sing the phrases "bellend" and "ringpiece" over and over again. The producer wouldn't let them. I ended up really quite liking the song and it's good fun to play. Maybe I'll do it if I have any December gigs next year. I also did Folly or a Fortress and Watertight. Either Jo or Roy had thoughtfully provided mince pies, small crackers and "popping candy" for each table. I'd not seen popping candy before, being the sheltered flower that I am. It's a fine powder and when you put it in your mouth, each particle makes a popping noise. Unless you put a large amount in your mouth at once, in which case all the moisture is sucked from your body leaving you as a shrivelled up husk with a sticky mess on your tongue. There was some synchronised popping at one stage and the back of the room sounded like there was a babbling brook there. Or someone taking a piss. After it was all over I popped to the Beaconsfield for a bit, marvelled at their amazing non-needle-shedding tree, and ended up playing Mariokart with Rishi from Karmadillo until too late really. I've still got my skills after all this time. The newer versions don't come close to the majesty of the original SNES one though.

Wow, it's been nearly a week since I wrote anything, mostly because I've not done a great deal. I enjoyed the Morning People gig on Tuesday, I think because I managed to position myself round a corner where I couldn't be seen by most of the audience (I seem to be having one of those weeks where I want to hide away from everything) and could watch the news on the telly, which made playing much more relaxing than usual. The telly had computer generated subtitles which threw up some amusing errors. The football commentary which had gone before was priceless, for example Ronaldo totally mishit a shot and the subtitles went "and Ronaldo's poor effort crosses the line for a goal" and then about 45 seconds later "kick". There were a fair few instances of totally the wrong word appearing ("university" instead of, I guess, either "universally" or "Rooney was shitty").

I then managed to do nothing much, bar working and a bit of unsuccessful recording until yesterday, when I got a call at lunchtime asking if I was up for doing a set at the Boathouse as one of the acts had pulled out. I'm pretty much always up for playing, so I said yes, even though I know from much experience that last minute gigs are always deserted. And so it proved, but I'm glad I went. Rob Jackson played first and it was gorgeous as usual. Then it was my turn. As I already mentioned, I'm having a wanting to hide away kind of week, and doubts started creeping in almost immediately that people would probably prefer it if I wasn't playing (I've been getting that a lot recently), so I kept my half hour set down to about 20 minutes. Setlist: Phosphorus Burn (with lots of guitar messing up), Watertight, Alabaster, Portobello in the Afternoon, So Finally a Love Song.

The headliners, Roger Tarry, had come all the way from Bristol (and were driving straight back), so I'm glad there were at least a few of us there to watch, and they made a very nice noise and seemed like really nice guys.

I've had a brilliant day today. A jovial pub lunch at the Alex with Rob, Tom Conway, Rishi from Karmadillo and the BJP guys, which lasted until just before the Man U Chelsea game kicked off. The game was entertaining because I didn't really care who won - I just wanted to see goals and injuries. There were a couple of goals (both scored by Saha if you ask me), but no real injuries (except maybe Ronaldo, who Ashley Cole cynically took out towards the end because he kept going past him). Andy Gray did a fair amount of calling Didier Drogba a cheat, which was nice to hear, though how you single out any given Chelsea player as more of a cheat than the others is a bit beyond me. 

After the football I went to a "Twisted Folk" night at the Junction Shed. The first band (Cape May) were OK, a bit pretentious (playing to the crowd), but they had their moments and the sound in the room is brilliant.

Jeffrey Lewis, the second act was cool. At first I thought he was one of these people that does weird songs because he can't think of anything good, and a fair bit of the set was spent going "riiiight..." and "that swannee whistle the drummer has is getting a bit tiring isn't it" but he did one song narrating a slide show of cartoons that was funny and heart warming and one about meeting Will Oldham on a train that was superb and totally struck a chord (because it was really about being a failed musician and making the point that it might all be better if "we were all just uncreative drones, no dead childhood dreams to haunt us, a decent job, a decent home" read the whole thing here, it really is very good). There was another one about jumping into the East River that has lodged in my brain, and his between song talking was excellent too. Oh, and his bass player was triggering samples on a little casio keyboard with his feet, which was better than it sounds. God, I wish I was quirky. Quirky is the new good.

I'd heard great things about Nina Nastasia, but left unconvinced. Mostly because her set was ruined by her idiot of a keyboard player being hopelessly inappropriate all the time, either doing stupid atonal things that, to be fair, probably made a fair proportion of the audience go "ooh how unconventional", but spoiled the song nevertheless, or by playing big tinkling scales over quiet songs, which showed off his prowess, but spoiled the song nevertheless. And he looked like an Open University maths professor. I swear he was wearing sandals and socks. I got more and more angry with him as the gig went on and paid less and less attention to the rest of the band, instead spending my time hating him. The first song had given me tingles, and there were some sonically brilliant moments (specifically the blissful seconds when the keys were silent, or when they were drowned out by the beautiful sounding cello, accordian and drums), but I can't really remember anything about it all. I'd go and see her again though, just to make sure.

I put a tenner on Australia to win the cricket the other day on the grounds that it was a certainty, and, despite the crap odds, it was better interest than you get in the bank, and it'd be well worth a tenner if they didn't win. We're in with a very small chance still (though I think Pietersen's just gone), so my patented controlling-the-future-with-reverse-betting technique may yet pay off again. Oh, bugger, someone else has just gone too. Ho hum.

I was having a pissed conversation with someone the other day about which Desert Island Discs I'd choose. Here they are - they're not necessarily the best songs in the world, or even by the artiste (though some are), but are the ones that mean the most to me right now, looking back at things, and why...

Copperhead Road - Steve Earle.

This song is the reason I bought a mandolin. I saw it on CMT when I was in my dodgy country phase and it snapped me right out of it. I think I saw it on Going Live once too, but I might have imagined that. The first real gig I went to (other than Richard Marx, which, great as it was, doesn't really count) was Steve Earle at the Shepherd's Bush Empire the night they filmed the "Johnny Too Bad" video, and it was incredible. As often happens with gigs, I was deaf for about a week, not because of the music, but because of some wanker whistling in my ear the whole time.

16 Miles - Boo Hewerdine

"Did you ever see London at night and not want to go home?" The first time I saw Boo at Glastonbury in 1998 this song blew me away. I went out and bought "Ignorance", and I don't think he's bettered it.

7 Day Mile - The Frames

The first time I saw The Frames was at the Boat Race in 1999 with about 3 other people. That gig was the benchmark I hold everyone else up to. It's why I don't like all that much music. The more recent albums have been a bit Coldplayesque, and they've been lacking something since Dave Odlum left to pursue Gemma Hayes, but if you don't love "Dance the Devil..." I have no time for you when it comes to music...

The Perfect Gentleman - The Broken Family Band

"I threw all my friends in the river, metaphorically, but with ugly concrete shoes". Beat that. The first time I heard this was also the first time I realised that The Broken Family Band were properly "top ten favourite band ever" good rather than a local band that I liked watching. 

A Thing Well Made - The Mutton Birds

The Mutton Birds are another one of my favourite bands - they always had a sinister undercurrent, and this song demonstrated that more than any other, though "White Valiant" runs it close. I miss them a lot. I saw them a fair few times, but not enough.

February - Dar Williams

Dar's written a lot of amazing songs, but I think this is my favourite. Not sure why, it just resonates with me. "If It Wrote You" is also right up there.

Mercedes - Joseph Arthur

The first gig I ever went to at the Boat Race was Ron Sexsmith supported by Joseph Arthur. I'd just spent a day hanging about in HMV in Edinburgh listening to the Mutton Birds and Joseph Arthur on listening posts and getting inspired to write a song (guess which one), and it was dead cool seeing him in the flesh, especially as he was still really humble and grateful to have the chance to travel round playing to people. Not like when I supported him a few years later (and, frankly, kicked his arse). His Junkyard Hearts EPs are really cool, but none of the later albums have the innocence and passion of the first one.

The Church of John Coltrane - St Jude's Infirmary

Just cos it reminds me of what a great time I had in Glasgow in January with Small Town Boredom, and is pretty darn atmospheric ("I don't want you BACK, I dont' want YOU back, I don't WANT you back"). I considered putting something by Bon Jovi or Guns 'N' Roses or Bryan Adams or Skid Row or Logan in last, because of the huge effect they all had on my development as a guitar player, but that was a long long time ago now, or Tori Amos or Elbow just because of how bloody good they are, but you're only allowed 8... and I can't believe I've not put any Counting Crows in.

The book is "A Moveable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway, because, despite the fact that it's the most totally full of lies autobiography in the history of the world, it makes you want to make some kind of sacrifice to be an artist. Shame I've never been brave enough.

Dunno about the luxury. Maybe a squash court and robotic player that was programmed to always be just slightly less good than me...

Anyway, enough of this jollity. Just got back from playing at the Boathouse Open Mic. It was a good night. I played Watertight and Soaked to the Skin with the help of Rob Jackson and then a few of us somehow ended up at the Rose and Crown watching the karaoke.

I seem to have some kind of eye problem that makes it look like I've been crying all the time. Seems a bit unfair, as I've only been crying a bit of the time. I'm going to try and get the doctor to give me an appointment tomorrow, but I don't fancy my chances as they've got a bloody stupid system these days that means you have to phone within about a 30 second window to get in. I think it's so that they don't actually have to see anyone but hypochondriac old women with nothing wrong with them who know exactly when to call.

Just back from a very enjoyable gig at the 3 Horseshoes in Abbot's Ripton, which is a beautiful pub. It's probably the smallest room I've ever played in, comfortably beating the previous incumbent, which was the Champion of the Thames. One of the beauties of a small room, other than the intimacy, is that you don't need very many people at all for there to be a lovely atmosphere. Which there was. Dan Flay did a set first, which I thought was great, and went down really well. Rob Jackson played some guitar with me, which sounded gorgeous. I reckon we must have the highest quotient of broken hearts of any musical act in the world at the moment. Joint highest at least. I came extremely close to crying during "So Finally a Love Song", but managed to restrict it to a bit of croaking and some heavy duty blinking. I was feeling a bit vague all night - possibly because I spent most of last week either working or drunk. Or both. I'm going to take it easy next week. Anyway, the excellent Alias Grace are playing next month (Nov 12th), so if you're in the area check it out. The guys who put it on have a website at www.bjp-promotions.co.uk. I won't be there though because...

Setlist: St Swithin's Day, Phosphorus Burn, So Finally a Love Song, Easy Way Out, Alabaster, Watertight, Losing Out to Bullethead, Grateful Smile, Sleep Tonight, Ball and Chain, Soaked to the Skin, Edinburgh.

...as part of my taking my mind off things campaign, I've just arranged to go to San Francisco for the 2nd week of November. It's a similar, but more exciting, impulse to the one that made me buy a new mop this afternoon and throw out a load of clothes. I'll hopefully meet up with Dan for a bit, then generally hang around and maybe try and do some open mics or something if anyone at any will lend me a guitar. My dad was really generous with some air miles he had knocking around that were due to expire before he'd get a chance to use them. I'm a little bit nervous about going away on my own (I'm hoping I don't just go for days on end without talking to anyone), but I need to get used to my own company. If anyone knows anything good to do/see there, let me know.

MORI caught me just after lunch and suspiciously wanted to know my name and address for their confidential statistics. I suspect them of trying to catch out tax evaders. 

I caught 2 Japanese students blowing dandelion clocks over the fence into my garden yesterday. Being English I tried to sneak into the house and pretend I'd not noticed. What I should've done was say "What do you think you're doing? Who do you reckon's going to have to pull up a million dandelions next year? My mum that's who!".

My next door neighbour has erected an enormous fence around the front of his garden. At first I assumed it was to stop Japanese students blowing dandelion seeds into it, then I wondered if someone had complained about the eyesore that is his garden, and rather than clean it up he's put it in an equally ugly container, which is somehow already looking run down, but I've come to the conclusion it's because he's a weirdo and he doesn't want people looking in. I'll never forget the time I caught him trimming the hedge with a flymo. Speaking of oddballs - what's with the woman who lives at the end of Kingston Street and is almost always standing in her front doorway staring into the road with a look of malice? And when she isn't she's peering out from behind the curtain in one of the upstairs rooms. It's quite unnerving.

Still got an answerphone message icon on my phone. I've got a theory it'll go away if someone calls me and leaves a message and I delete it. No real way of testing it for the forseeable future though unless I call myself from the landline. And that would be slightly tragic.

It's the start of another new year. They seem to be coming around a bit too quickly these days, but they are good for setting goals and all that management-speak stuff, and it's as good a time as any to start writing things here. I'm sort of intending to record how gigs go when I get back from them, so that I remember when I have a nice time, but I bet I don't keep it up.

2005 was ok. I played a few good gigs (the Portland Arms, the Betsey Trotwood, CB2, The Windmill with The Morning People), a few disappointing ones (The Spitz, that place that used to be The Kashmir Klub), saw quite a few really good gigs (The Frames, Bright Eyes, Mark Kozelek, The Proclaimers), and quite a few less good ones (Martha Wainwright, Tom Vek, Bob Dylan, but you have to see him don't you) bought a couple of great albums (anything involving Steve Adams from The Broken Family Band, Rilo Kiley, Bright Eyes), and a large amount of so-so ones (damn you Fopp and your tempting cheapness), made a little CD and proceeded to do nothing much with it (if anyone wants one, they're pretty cheap off my website). I also inched closer to 30, watched Cambridge United get relegated from the Football League and got a bit depressed about the way Cambridge has gone since the Boat Race shut.

So, my resolutions for this year are:

• To post on here every so often.
• To get another CD done.
• Be brave enough to try and promote it a bit this time, even though I suspect most people will say it's too depressing and I can't sing.
• Try to avoid getting any fatter.
• Not to blame all of Cambridge United's shortcomings on referees, even when they're cheating little f**kers like today's.

I give them a week.