Last week was pretty busy. I wish I'd used the extra hour to get some more sleep instead of going "aah well, the clocks go back, I'll stay up an extra hour" on Saturday night.

On Tuesday we did a bit of quizzing at The Empress, which seems to have developed an urban farm in the beer garden, and came a point and a half away from the unusually big prize. I could've won it for us if I'd been a bit stronger in my resolve about who the short-lived Pope of 1978 was, and if I'd been a bit more careful about what the Oxford reserve Boat Race team are called. Oh well - 2nd out of 35 isn't bad, and I wasn't a huge amount of use on any of the rest of it.

On Wednesday I (along with most of the rest of Cambridge - there can't have been a pub within half a mile of Highbury and Islington tube without someone I know in it) went to Islington to watch the Broken Family Band's last London show at the newly refurbished, and apparently Relentless, Garage. We got there just in time for Chris T-T, having had a pint or two (and an unsuccessful game of Blockbusters) in the Hope and Anchor, which took me back to when I was naive enough to try and book gigs, and people were naive enough to say yes. He was great (despite no "Tomorrow Morning") and silenced the room by starting with an a capella song about the ancient trees that got cut down to make way for the M1 (it was better than it sounds when put like that). Unfortunately, the London crowd being a pretty ignorant bunch in general, the chatter soon started. I got a bit cross with them, as much because they'd have probably liked it a lot if they'd given it a chance as anything else, but I still really enjoyed it. The Broken Family Band were just brilliant. Could well have been the best time I've seen them, though I suspect I say that a lot. They played a greatest hits kind of set, which is the perfect thing to do on a farewell tour I guess, and it was so nice to hear some of the songs from back in the day. I got a bit emotional, so God knows what the last ever gig is going to be like next week. I went for a drink with a couple of The Pony Collaboration and some other guys after in the only place open on Highbury Corner at 11pm on a Wednesday and ate the dirtiest chicken I've had in a long time from the only place open in Finsbury Park at midnight on a Wednesday before (just) getting the slow train home. Which, for some reason, had a jazz band jamming with some choir boys on it. And as if that wasn't odd enough, they'd set up right by the loo.

I realised on Friday night as I was walking to The Junction to see Frank Turner, eating my fancy fish and chips from that new place on Mill Road (not bad, but your hands stink of fish afterwards) that it was going to be the first full waking hour since getting off said slow train that I wouldn't have been sat in front of a computer in the office. I got in about halfway through the first support act, Beans on Toast, who I'd seen when Frank Turner played at The Loft a few years ago, and really not liked. I think I must have softened my stance on well meaning but not very bright folk-punk since then because it wasn't the least good thing I've seen in ages - I even quite liked some of it. Though I'd not recently seen David Thomas Broughton last time. In fact it wasn't even the least good thing on the night, that dubious honour going to Fake Problems, who while they could play very nicely (as all Americans who make it over here can - the guitarist who looks like Tommy from early Third Rock From The Sun was particularly great I thought) had such rubbish songs that I started wishing the sound would get worse so that I couldn't hear the words. I've not been sure where I stand on Frank Turner recently - it's seemed to me like all his stuff for a couple of records now has been about how him and his friends are just playing music to have a good time and it doesn't really matter if they make it big because they're having a good time along the way and you shouldn't waste your life doing things you hate, just have a good time (fine if you come from money...). But he sings it all with such conviction live that you can't help but have a good time, so maybe he's on to something (certainly a lot of people seem to like it). That, coupled with his band being approximately 20 times better than when I saw him in January (though the bassist was still trying a bit hard to pretend that playing bass is actually a difficult thing to do) made it a properly storming, uplifting, manic grin-inducing, time. Really, really enjoyable. I met some guys in the pub after who'd seen me supporting Mark Morriss the other week and recognised me, so I had a few drinks with them and posed for a photo or two (get me! The best thing about it was they couldn't remember what I was called) until Mr Turner turned up and they had to go and talk to him instead. I'm just being an arse - that's not really what happened at all. Good times.

On Saturday I went to London because we ended up with some tickets to Green Day at the O2 Arena from work. I thought I'd make a day of it, so went down at lunchtime to meet an old uni mate at Piccadilly. I was late due to being let down by the transport network for the first of many times that day (they thought it'd be a laugh to stop all the southbound lines except the Piccadilly from Kings Cross, which meant the ENTIRE WORLD was trying to fit on the 3 trains an hour they could be bothered to run). He didn't answer his phone for a bit so I took some photos.







That demonstration was right in everyone's way. To misquote Chris T-T - war's bad, well done, have a biscuit.

When we did manage to meet up and circumnavigate the march we went for a few drinks and some noodles, and I took delivery of a "luck in love" charm like the one I'd that I'd failed to get when I was in Japan. I think it actually says marriage on it, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. And, frankly, for all I know it actually says "I hope you get an incurable degenerative disease". 

During the journey to the O2 I got the angriest I've been in a long, long time. I stupidly forgot to check exactly how much of the Jubliee line had been shut "due to investment", but, assuming it wouldn't be pretty much the whole bloody thing I got the tube from Oxford Circus to Green Park so I could catch it all the way to the venue. Of course, pretty much the entire bloody thing was shut. "Oh well" I thought "I'll just get the Piccadilly back to Piccadilly Circus and work my way down". Forgetting that the Piccadilly Line was still having to cope with the ENTIRE WORLD on its own. An hour, several kicked walls, and only 3 unboardably packed trains later I managed to force my way on to one to complete a journey that would've been a 5 minute walk if I'd known. Where's that London Underground song on youtube... Chris had (quite rightly) gone up to the box when I finally made it to the O2, as well as having a go at blackjack in the VIP Rocksino with the 50 Rock Dollars we got given on going in. I was a bit peeved that I didn't get to play, but it was vaguely my own fault and it's not really so much fun if you're not playing for real money anyway. And now I have 50 Rock Dollars to spend on something else. Maybe a 30 Rock box set.



When I finally did make it up there was a giant rabbit dancing on the stage, a table full of food and a fridge full of free beer. I'm not convinced about corporate boxes at gigs, but, to be honest, of all the massive sell out bands that there are, Green Day must be right up there. There are 6 of them now, including a part time sax player (if I was a big Green Day fan from the early days that'd be like a dagger in my heart. Or my ears), and it seemed more like a pantomime than a gig. But it was no less fun for it.






I'd heard bad things about the sound in the O2, but it seemed fine to me - I guess it helps when you know the songs. That said, other than the classics (of which there were a fair few), the highlights of the gig were probably when they got people out of the audience to be the band for half a song, when the singer (Billy Joe Armstrong is it?) dressed up as a nun,



and when he got a water pistol and started shooting the crowd, then upped it to a hose,



then a power toilet roll shooter thing,



then a T-shirt bazooka. Also they played the Benny Hill theme. That was pretty good.



I left halfway through the encore (I'd heard Basket Case, which was the object of the exercise really) in order to get to Kings Cross for the 11.15, leaving extra time to allow for the fact that the Northen line couldn't be bothered to stop there, and made it with a good 3 minutes to spare, only to find that, seemingly for a laugh, they'd moved the 11.15 forward 3 minutes. Maybe my Japanese charm actually says "you shall have nothing but grief on public transport". Still, Rishi and James from Karmadillo were on the train I did eventually get, so it was more entertaining than the earlier one would've been. Especially as I'm reading the stupidest book I've read in ages, which is about a woman who gets a telepathic connection with a guy because she gets some of his blood in a transfusion. Maybe I should write a novel - you don't seem to need to be very good. Except I'd just spend years getting it exactly how I wanted and everyone would read the first 2 pages and say they didn't like the typeface.

I'm sure you've all seen it already, but I recently discovered this on youtube and find it much funnier than I would have expected to.

..

The light in my kitchen has been on the blink for about two weeks and I keep forgetting until it's dark and I want to cook. It's quite good fun because it flashes on and off so it looks like you're cooking in slow motion, but you do have to carry boiling pans of stuff around the house so that you can see how it's coming along. The situation has resulted in a couple of pretty spectacular meals though so I think I'm going to keep things as they are. Also, how are you meant to tell which kind of neon tube you need? I've never figured that out. Also the washing up looks less scary in the dark.

I played at the Folk Club on Friday night, supporting Heidi Talbot, John McCusker and Boo Hewerdine, and had a very nice time. It sold out (I'm not sure I've been involved in a sell out gig before) which meant that there were a big lot of people watching me. They were queueing all the way down the stairs during the soundcheck - I've never seen anything like it. As ever with folk audiences it was almost impossible to tell how I was doing - I'm pretty sure I could've been stood making fart noises with my armpit and there would've still been the same amount of polite applause, but a fair few people came up and said nice things after. For my part, I thought I sang and played well and my in between song talking was working fairly nicely for once, but I forgot the words for a bit at one point and sang the second verse of Radio Silence twice (I've never ever known that happen either - maybe it just happens at sold out gigs). Nobody seemed to mind, but like I said, how would you tell? Setlist: You Won't Break My Heart, Watertight, This Place Is Dead Anyway, Radio Silence, The Ghost of Paddy's Night Past, So Finally a Love Song, Edinburgh, Soaked to the Skin. 

I didn't get to see quite as much of the main act as I'd have liked due to being stuck outside the room, and restless, but they make a lovely noise and John McCusker is quite incredibly good at the violin and, that rarest of things, tasteful with it. It was a treat to see someone as important as that in such a small room. I got a copy of Boo's new CD which I'm enjoying listening to right now - there are some songs on there that I've been waiting for for years.

We went to another, much better, conference in London last week. They gave us lunch, the talks were fairly interesting and the free bar at the party (in the O2 Arena no less! I'd not been there before - it's very big and has a Nando's) didn't run out until 1am. It also had weird robots made of security cameras who were doing strangely hypnotic gyrating pole dances. They looked a bit like the clones from Star Wars. The only downside of the whole event was that I'm not useful enough for anyone to want to talk to. Real People actually do seem to spend their whole lives either trying to network each other to death or embroiled in pissing contests - who knew? It's pretty depressing, and another reason why I'll never amount to anything. Still, that whole Docklands area will be pretty nice if they ever finish building it - I was particularly impressed with the ornamental massive cranes they have. I was also pretty impressed that our hotel served breakfast from 4am until midday. You'd really have to work at missing that.

The spare time I've had had been spent watching telly and making a better version of "Ball and Chain" than the one that appeared on the Edinburgh ep that I did a few years ago. I was a bit worried about watching Antiques Roadshow on my own, as half the fun is guessing the value of the pieces, but it was fine, How I Met You Mother has reached a point that I've not seen before, while still being hilarious, and I've been enjoying Emma (I think because the actress who plays the title role looks a tiny bit like Drew Barrymore) - it's the only one of Jane Austen's books that I didn't totally love, but maybe I'll try it again. It's going to be a pretty close run thing between having another CD ready and reaching my self imposed Scars selling target for making another CD I think. Though actually maybe it won't, as I don't have any more gigs sorted out and the only effective way of getting any more seems to be to wait quietly for them to fall into my lap.

Right. Time for Masterchef: The Professionals. I think they should have a round where they try to prepare Michelin Star standard food in a kitchen where the lights are strobing. I reckon I'd be in with a chance if they did.

It's been a hectic week or so, largely spent in London... On Wednesday we went to that pub quiz where you can use mobile phones to find out the answers again and came a respectable third, beating The Sunday Times and Hardeep Singh Koli in the process. We came a cropper on the spelling round when they produced what I reckon is the only word in the English language that is spelt differently to how I (and everybody) thought. What are the chances? Minuscule I reckon. With a U it turns out.

On Thursday and Friday we were at probably the only internet conference in history at which the WiFi didn't work. Well, apart from the same one the previous year... It was a bit disappointing on the whole, and rather than give me ideas and inspire me to new levels of achievement or whatever, it made me despair once again that I've accidentally ended up working in the same industry as these people. The presentations were also more foul mouthed than the average punk rock gig which was a bit embarrassing. Just so you know, it seems the new geek phrase for "a lot" is "a shit tonne" which doesn't quite make sense to me. I'd have called it "a generous tonne" or at least "a reasonable tonne". And if something is bad, it "sucks shit". Also, I'm pretty sure that the woman from Facebook was either a robot, or had been hypnotised and will come to in a couple of years and it'll turn out she's never heard of the internet and can't even speak English. 

Anyway, the after party on the Thursday was pretty good because the supposedly limited free bar took coffee tokens (and, it turned out, the covers of the book that the coffee tokens came in) in lieu of beer tokens. Which is just as well, because a small bottle of Beck's was £4.50. It was already pretty bloody late when we left the club and I, in my infinite wisdom, decided that I wanted to go to a casino. I'm sure it has nothing to do with watching "21" the other day. There should probably be a rule about never going to casinos when you actually think it's a good idea... I managed to offend the dealer by saying "I preferred the other dealer" when my winnings started to dwindle immediately after they swapped. She said in a very efficient sounding Eastern European accent "You are losing because you are playing incorrectly, it has nothing to do with me." Sigh... Good times though and I had a nice chat with a gaggle of French waiters on the night bus home (I wonder what the actual collective noun for a group of French waiters is? I'm going for either "an indifference", "a snootiness" or "a getting off to piss in the street at Leytonstone"). I also got to meet my nephew again the next day, who is clearly the best baby in the world - he can sort of walk and keeps asking what things are. He was very interested in my bright red Hiroshima Carp T shirt. I hope he becomes a fan.

On Saturday night I went to see The Pony Collaboration. I know I say it every time I see them, but they really are lovely. You can't help but grin like an idiot when they play - I don't think there are any "local" bands that even come close. Get their new album, it's dead good. Dave did a really good set beforehand with Sam on drums, which was oddly punctuated by some drunk guy yelling out his support for the plight of Roman Polanski between songs. Not sure what that was about really.

Yesterday I went to The Borderline in London for the first time in a few years (I used to go there all the time until it got taken over by Mean Fiddler and immediately stopped booking any decent bands) to see James McMurtry. It felt so nice going there again, and it's such an awesome venue. Small and sweaty with a really high stage and unconvincing tex-mex decor that hasn't changed since the first time I went. I reckon if I got to play at The Borderline then I could give up without feeling like a failure. Anyway, the support act was Otis Gibbs, who's like a low rent Steve Earle, right down to the massive beard, and even a few borrowed lines, though none of the songs were near Earle standard. He was cool, as all older American guys are, and had some good stories, but I'd had enough by the time he finished.



What's odd about James McMurtry, or my following of him, is that I only actually have 2 albums, both of which are great, and both of which date back to the early 90s. I don't know why I've not filled in the gaps but it means I'm at a slight disadvantage when it comes to knowing the material. At the gig I saw in January he only played one song I knew, and the same thing happened last night ("Too Long in the Wasteland" which was surprisingly rocking, but I'd have preferred to have seen "Levelland" again instead, or, even better, as well), but I still absolutely loved it. Even more than last time. As much as I like The Luminaire, I have so much history with The Borderline (The Frames, Dar Williams, Jolene, Oh Susanna!, Jay Farrar, Angelou, without even thinking about it) and the fact that it's a smaller room makes it more intense. Much like with Steve Earle, you watch him for a few minutes and you know that he's the Real Thing. It also hit home again just how much better Americans are at playing music than British people. These guys normally just play some bar and grill on Wednesday nights in Austin and I bet there are hardly any bands in this country who are as effortlessly tight, or have such great guitar sound. And as for the songs... Let's just say he's obviously a very clever guy. I hope he comes back soon.

It's been a sporty couple of days. Watching, not playing obviously. On Friday I got to go to The Oval to watch England play Australia, which was a lot of fun (though, top Oval tips - don't get the chicken samosas from the Best Indian Food Ever In The History Of The World stall - the pastry is way too thick and dry - also, they close the bars for 30 minutes at random intervals, and nobody knows why...). It went down to the last ball, which is all you can ask for really (other than an England win). Cricketers seem to be very tall. And can throw cricket balls very hard. I didn't really understand why Strauss decided to bowl first when he knew it was a day/night game and the ball seems to be much harder to see under floodlights, but I'm not an international cricketer. The weather just about held, despite the fact I took my magic rain generating sunglasses. I wanted to get a copy of the Times on the way to read if I got bored, but there weren't any shops, and then there was a stall giving them out as soon as we got in. I do use up my luck on the silliest things.



Then yesterday, I went to watch a more eventful than usual Cambridge United match. About half an hour in Cambridge had a vaguely promising attack, everyone clapped a bit, and then the Red Arrows did a flypast. I wondered what would happen if Cambridge actually scored. The answer turned out to be that they'd score another 6, equalling their biggest ever victory. The Arrows flew past again later, but not in such good formation. Cambridge have scored a total of 10 and conceded 0 in the last two games I've seen. Seems like they're using my luck up as well.

I've realised that I'm not going to have time to write about Japan in as much detail as I'd like because stuff is happening faster than I can keep up with (I'm going away again next weekend), so here are a few highlights (in no particular order).

Riding the bullet train. They really are amazing things - the 575 miles from Tokyo to Osaka takes a little over 2 1/2 hours, and even though you're going nearly 200 mph it's unbelievably smooth - almost silent. And I thought the trains in Germany were good. The scenery is pretty nice too.



I also liked the fact that the train we were on was called the Super Express.




Baseball in Osaka. Osaka is an even stranger place than Tokyo - it feels darker, like a science fiction film. On the second night we were walking along and a 30 or 40 strong motorcycle gang roared past. They went past again about half an hour later. I thought it was quite sweet. We were mostly there to go to a baseball game at the Osaka Dome, which is pretty funky looking from the outside.



And pretty impressive on the inside




The Hiroshima Toyo Carp were playing the Hanshin Tigers. The Carp are, apparently, the worst baseball team in Japan and have a really rubbish name, so obviously they are now the baseball team that I support. Within about 15 minutes of us getting in there Dan had spilled his beer on the old people in the row in front. They made a big show of being annoyed, but I'm pretty sure, what with them being old, having something to complain about made their night. Especially having foreigners to complain about. Luckily there are very nice people who'll come and give you more beer without you even having to leave your seat.



All the home players (Hanshin is a bit of Osaka) had entrance music, which was the only real way of distinguishing them from where we were. The only one I really remember had "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi. I wish he'd been playing for the Carp - he'd have been my new favourite baseball player. I'd have found out his name and everything. I think I could get quite into baseball if they had it here. I'll definitely try and watch a game if I end up in America again, though I'm not sure they have such fun music playing the whole time:



To round off a really good evening, the Carp won 9-0!

The other real highlight of Osaka, other than some really odd bars was this 173m high tower that you can get on the roof of. There are some slightly terrifying escalators that take you up the last little bit, suspended 150m off the ground.



It had some great views.





Kyoto is definitely one of the more lovely places I've been, or will go. It used to be the capital of Japan until they moved it to Tokyo in the 19th Century (I don't know if it's a coincidence that their names are so similar, presumably not), and is littered with temples and shrines, and surrounded by mountains. This one said it was built originally by a daughter to house a picture of her dad, and is the largest wooden structure in the world. It is pretty big.



We caught the subway up into the hills a bit, where we found this graveyard,



before going on a scenic walk that took in a few temples, a park, and a street of tourist traps















Culminating in this temple complex, further up yet another hill.



Even further up the hill are some shrines dedicated to people looking for love, and two stones that you have to walk between with your eyes closed to test the strength of your current relationship - if you make it from one to the other then things are going well. Obviously I didn't bother, but Dan had a go, and made it. Sort of. There were lucky charms you could buy (for all kinds of things - exams, good health, safe return from skydiving expeditions). I decided it could do no harm and was going to get one of these,



but the place that sold them had shut in between us going in and coming out, which speaks volumes. There were bits of wood that you could write prayers on and the head monk would see to it that they were answered on the first day of the next month - I found it kind of moving how many there were.



There were some more amazing views on the way down






Kagaya. The single weirdest bar I've ever been to I think. It's a small basement room run by a guy who takes your drinks order and then makes you choose a country to have them served in the style of. We chose France, and he came out in a beret and cravat with a small easel and did a cariacature of me. It looks quite like me, except I look happy. Unfortunately I've lost the cable that allows me to get pictures off my camera so you can't see it. Nor can you see the Spanish style drinks service, which was a daily special, and involved a rubber bull's head and some castanets. Nor can you see my special treat after everyone else had gone, which was him dressing up as a frog, then yelling my name into a small robot frog, which then ran forward repeating it. I found this all really funny until he told me, with a weird loneliness in his eyes, that he'd been doing it for 21 years.

Here is a short list of things that surprised me about Japan

1) The getting the letters l and r confused thing actually extends to writing - my favourite was "robby" on the floor list of a hotel.
2) They drive on the left. I assumed that we were the only proper country that drives on the left.
3) They really don't like foreigners much - people got off subway carriages when they saw us and moved along to the next. Though that does happen to me a bit everywhere I go.
4) There were hardly any English people there - almost all of the western people we saw were Spanish or German

Here are some miscellaneous pictures.




If only we could have found 2 girls to pose with that last one...