Curry Up Harry

The four horsemen of the apocalypse (Catford branch) gathered in Brockley last night for a curry to honour Mr Smith's birthday. Very good food indeed and a right old laugh to boot.

Prison Walls, Burning Leaves

That's what's left of the wall to the Marshalsea Debtor's Prison, where Charles Dickens's father served time. It's round the corner from the new and decidedly un-Dickensian Resonance studio. We're still getting used to our new surroundings, and the challenges of adapting to fully functional equipment, but yesterday went pretty smoothly, with Burning Leaves playing a charmingly mellow set of beautiful songs. Richard brought in a CD by a Scottish singer called Iona Marshall, with a song called Shell and Dye - that's me and the she-wolf, innit? Spooky.

Wolf Whistle

Another makeover for Shelly, this time of a more lupine bent.

Triplet Makeover

Shelly got a makeover on Sunday from the Dalston triplets. Nice work girls.

Oktober Festering

Shepherd's delighful skies over SE10 yesterday. Keira Knightley had been filming a period drama called Duchess outside my office window. Sadly it did not appear to be based on the lyrics of the Stranglers song of the same name. Rattus Norvegicus: The Musical, now there's an idea to conjure with. (Note to self: try to stop mentioning the Stranglers in blog)
Up to the Gladstone again last night for another Acoustic Suicide, hosted by a particularly bouffant Richard. I stood outside with Spizz and his daughter Molly, though none of us are smokers, and admired the appropriately autumnal Burning Leaves through the bleary lens of the pub window.

Sugar: beat

Haven't blogged from the diabetic frontline for a while. The good news is that the metformin seems to be working a treat. My blood sugar readings have been quite respectable for the last month or so and my HbA1c ('glycosylated haemoglobin' count) last week was 7.1, only just outside the 'good control' zone of below 7.0. To get it down a bit further I'm now popping one more pill a day and trying to cut down how much I eat in the evenings. Not an easy thing to do when you're half-man, half-gannet, an affliction I share with all the other males in my family, but I shall try.

I do like Mondays!

An horrendous week for many reasons, among them succumbing to a particularly nasty gatric virus of some sort. I will spare you the details. Some relief yesterday at the swish new Resonance premises in Borough, with the fabulous Monday Club putting in a tremendous session performance. Apparently they chose the band name in homage to the reduced drinks prices in Wetherspoons at the beginning of the week, without being aware of the far-right group of Tory dimwits using the same banner, who may well have chosen the name for the same reason.

More reasons to be cheerful were supplied by Robin's splendid Tron trainers - 'Tronners' if you will. Nice!