Saturday 31 January 2004

At home nursing a head cold - it's tempting to blame the guy sitting opposite me on the train the other day, who repeatedly coughed in my direction while still holding his newspaper in both hands. 

Last night's gig in St Andrews was mostly memorable for the walk Greg and I took along the pier - before a concert there, I usually walk by the sea with some fish and chips, as the moonlight on the water can be spectacular. But last night it was overcast and raining, so treading gingerly along the top of the slippy narrow harbour wall was like taking step after step into a murky oblivion - no sea was to be seen.

A little later, while playing lots of notes very fast in the concert, I thought about how the two activities (walking into oblivion and playing lots of notes) were quite an interesting pair of things to do in an evening, and then I was so distracted by this thought, that for a split second I wasn't doing the second of them any more. I hope not too many people noticed. 

I'd found the sound levels in the Queen's Hall a bit oppressive the night before (probably a result of the head cold, hidden by the accompanying adrenaline), so wunder-roadie Dave provided me with my own acoustic screening at head height. I figured this would look less disconcerting to the audience than my wearing earplugs in the concert. In an acoustic situation, it does seem a bit rude to expect the audience to listen to something that you're not prepared to put up with yourself.

This morning my breath was momentarily taken away by Cherie Blair's remark in the press that her children (whom she rightly protects from media attention, on the whole) are sleeping much better, now that the Hutton report has been published. I'm sure their collective relief is genuine, but I can't summon up any sympathy, I'm afraid.  In politics as in music, sincerity is a touching human attribute, but it's not enough.

Meanwhile here's a sneak preview of what the publicity for our March tour might look like.