Edward Suffolkhands

Up the A12 for my Mum's 65th birthday celebrations. Beautiful skies over Walberswick before we left for London tonight. My sister-in-law says that Johnny Depp is looking for a house in the area. Not sure how I feel about that. I think I might prefer Suffolk being known mainly for bird-flu, nuclear power stations and serial killers - it helps keep the crowds away. On the other hand, flocks of mini-goths clogging up the tea-rooms of Thorpeness, desperate for a glimpse of Jack Sparrow would liven the place up a bit.

Jlesh Munce

Down to the Windmill in Brixton last night for a marvellous array of bands. Old friends of the radio show, Captain Blood Blood and the Sea Dogs have now expanded from a trio to a quintet and were in very fine fettle indeed. Chips for the Poor did an epic 9 minute set, which included the excellent 'I am warm in my coat' played twice, but the highlight of the night was Spin Spin the Dogs. Proclaimed on the interweb as 'Derby's most hated band' despite, or perhaps because of, being from Nottingham, they're in fact a fantastic blend of Beefheart, Pere Ubu and Stump. Truly fabulous stuff - hoping to get them in for a session very soon.

Worst before...

Shocked to discover that Tesco are now stamping their sell-by dates directly onto their houmous. Fortunately I had a jar of Barry Norman's pickled onions at hand to help me get over the trauma.

It ain't the meat it's the motion (that makes your daddy want to rock)

Quick recap on the last few days:

Thursday night at Acoustic Suicide to see harpist extraordinaire Serafina Steer playing a sublime version of Morrisey's 'Suedehead'.

Friday night in the Oak with Spratticus for the AGM of the Tony Harrison appreciation society.

The Resonance (no relation) Association were live on Saturday's show, after which there was a brief Crops reunion at the Parquet Mortar.

Then on to the Bethnal Green Working Men's Club to meet up with Adaesi, Rod and Nick for a very pleasant evening of rock and roll. The band were great, as were the lady dj's, who played some fantastically edgy sounding stuff from the fifties. Time to get the fluorescent socks and the Showaddywaddy LP out from under the bed - I can feel a teddy boy phase coming on!

Lionel Richie's Wardrobe

To the Priory Arms again last night with Team LRW bolstered by Shelly, Sandra and Tomoland for the pub quiz. Amazingly, and despite Tomo convincing us that Tin Tin's dog was a poodle, we won. We converted our winnings back into booze and celebrated with a hamfisted round of Buckaroo.

If it ain't a mess it'll do til the mess gets here

First Hello Goodbye show of 2008 kicked off the new year with great sessions from David Cronenberg's Wife and a solo Jamie Irrepressible. DCW's set included a song about a relationship between a man and a schoolgirl, the lyrics of which they'd thoughtfully typed out for us to vet in advance, in case they were too controversial for a family show. I didn't see anything that could cause offence so gave them the go ahead, secretly hoping that we would get a couple of outraged emails or phone calls from retired colonels in Tunbridge Wells. Sadly, however, it would appear that the self appointed bastions of family values and common decency are not setting their dials to 104.4 fm of a Saturday lunchtime. Which means they would have also missed Jamie's performance too - only one song, but terrific stuff.

Caught up with T-Lo, Tomoland et al in the Parquet Mortar for a couple of swellies, then had a great dahl makani in Simply Indian and went to see No Country for Old Men, the Coen Bros adaptation of the Cormac Mcarthy book. Fabulous stuff, already a candidate for best film of the year I'd say. Classic Coens and nicely dark, like Blood Simple. There's some great business with dogs in the film ('That's a dead dog' 'Yes it is') and a particularly marvellous scene where Josh Brolin is pursued across a river by a hound. Fantastic cast, excellent dialogue, brilliantly shot and a pleasingly ambiguous ending. Go and see it.

Out with the old...

So farewell then 2007. On the last afternoon of the year I cycled over Tower Bridge to visit Seething Lane, where Pepys used to live. His house, of course, is long gone - having burned down a few years after surviving the Great Fire. Strangely, the area around his statue smelled quite strongly of vomit. Saw in 2008 at John and Garry's in Camberwell with fireworks provided by their neighbours. Hit the saddle again at mid-day today, cycling up to Hampstead and back, then met up with last night's revellers again for a stroll along the Thames. Can't quite believe it's 2008 already. Still feels like 1994 to me.