...today: that makes us 3/4 of the way through the year tomorrow. Amazing. How did we get this far? Those of you with jobs will think "What is he on about?". But when you don't have the benefit of such mindnumbing routine to give you a safety net then the year really does become a perilously tardy and unpredicatble mechanism in your life. This is the gypsy lifestyle - hard as hell it must be. But it's where everything came from.

I have helped build the most amazing henhouse. The last apples have disappeared from the tree and Xmas has started its annual Stealth Attack Sequence (which always catches you by surprise). I like writing these odd blogs on MySpace because its a lonely endeavour, like a Lighthouse Keeper's job once must have been, because I know no-one will read this as everyone is on FaceBook these days. So here I am, lamenting the passing of the year simply because there was something I meant to do this year which I have failed to achieve. But I can't remember what it is. But I did manage to do a gig with a guy who once jammed with my hero, and I rediscovered Fat Freddie's Cat and The Furry Freak Brothers in a book which I bought from Leeds University Bookshop. 

October arrives meanwhile: So the rain has returned with a bucket or two to spare, and the guidance of the rails in the dark twinkling night seems to be vaguely in line, and so, with such gloomy wet weather various things start appearing: baby toads all over the place and blogs. The two go together hand-in-webbed-hand. What else is there to do after you've been moving manure and leaves around for a whole morning? Watch the Political Slot of the Channel 4 News? Spin Doctor's Heaven and bullshit from start to finish.

A strange year this has been so far, with various predictable failures and then unexpected revivals. I think I need a beer. I need a colour cartridge for the printer. I need a band too. In the studio tomorrow, overdubbing - a particularly fantastic occupation as most of the hard work of the rhythm tracks has already been done. There's even a track of ours now playing on one of our websites. I went to The Forum (where we play) to collect my son from a gig last night and I noticed that they'd had a bit of a sort-out of all the posters on the walls and replaced everything with fresh stuff (as happens at venues - it used to happen on a daily basis on hoarding panels in cities but that sort of thing seems to have become illegal these days, along with the "negative feelings generated in the breakdown of a relationship" (Domestic Violence, Crime and Victims Act 2004; "Til Death Us Do Part", 1969 also has a fair amount to answer for there). There, above some touring band's poster (Automatic I think) was a little notice saying "15 years and we're still here". That was The Foum's little pat on the back for itself for keeping its doors open all that time. And right next to it - a survivor of the Poster Purge - was one of our Skinbat Scramble "Remains" flyers. "28 years and we're still here too" I thought. That's really quite amazing...

Here comes Halloween, Bonfire Night and Xmas. The ghosts of our saints still haunt us. Weird.

UPDATE: 19th November: I went out yesterday and they have bulldozed Norrie's garden - he must be turning in his grave. I also think I saw a shadowy figure that might be Xmas lurking behind a bush... The Old Dolphin Brigade's first gig in a while, Halloween, Bonfire Night, Mike's Wedding, Imogen's Belated Birthday, and Stan Schembri's Wake in King's Cross (The Stormy Weekend) have all come and gone.