That was the week that was (and the one before that)

Well I haven't blogged for a month or two and thought I'd maybe given up on it, but the last fortnight shouldn't slip away without online documentation, if only because it was so odd. So yes, this is me back on the horse.

Week one of two saw us play three back to back shows; a Kings College Cambridge ball, an intimate Mojo magazine sponsored event at the Enterprise in Camden, and another ball, that of my alma mater Wolfson College, also in Cambridge.

The first show was great, though the ball wasn't as spectacular as the surroundings should demand. The theme seemed to be dress as a burke, and saw silver spandex girls mix with blue face-painted boys. Add to this the ubiquitous dodgems, candy floss and andy c mixing drum and bass, and you can imagine that all in all it was quite fun. But there was no massive pomp and ridiculousness (which the colleges seem to save for once every three years), and nothing spectacular went off to make it a hugely astonishing event. Our gig was packed, however, with hundreds of pissed-up students shouting the words to Eyeless in Holloway making it lots of fun, even if a worse for ware Lilly Flynn will never remember much of what went on.

Back in London on the Thursday for this Mojo gig then, which was an absolute treat. Johnny, Beach and I played a special gig here with Pete and the Pirates and Dennis Driscoll a couple of years ago (my soon-to-be girlfriend watching alongside Jamie T and Adele!), so it was great to be back. There was a real sense of crowd participation and intimacy on the night itself, with our stage banter on top form (even allowing us to excuse the God-awful noise made by Adam's preamp falling on the floor - think an angry rape alarm....). An offhand quip of mine about us sounding like Erasure even got a round of applause, which made me happier than I should have been.

Alas, we didn't get three good'un's in a row. The second Cambridge gig was a bit of a disaster. Going home to my college was brilliant; a lot of mates were there to great me, and the familiar smells and sounds that made me happy. But, even though we were supported by Elvis (...an impersonator from Croyden), the sound on stage was so appalling that we were completely thrown, and we weren't at out best. I was pretty devastated because I wanted the gig to be so good for the people I care about, but it wasn't. Still they seemed to enjoy it, and the night was spiced up a bit when I found out that Jim - a guy i knew from my time there - had become Hazel ,a pre-op Transexual. Like all men who dress as women he seemed to wear quite motherly clothes (why is that?), and seemed very happy in her-self, making everyone feel at ease with thereselves too.

The next week started with a trip to Sweden and a package from the BBC. Off to Stockholm to play the accelerator festival on the Tuesday, coming back on Wednesday night with an interview for a position in radio comedy on the Thursday, they decided to lump me a surprise parcel on the morning of my departure containing a fifty page scrip to analyse and a CD to review. I'd have to do it in fucking Sweden.

The festival went off without a hitch. An indoor thing with Foals, Wild Beasts and Duffy among others. We played our shit quite well, no one really knew the songs but we won the crowd round, and that was good enough. At this stage we thought a lot of Sweden. But the views at night weren't enough to convince us of the charm of the city, when four drugged up nutters attacked us as we walked back to our hotel in the early hours of the morning. It was a pretty scary time. These twats even punched Lilly in the face, chasing us for fifteen minutes, and even shouted at one point 'Welcome to Stockholm', as if they were the terminator, rather than pilled up morons with small penises. Joe's arm became dislocated as he tried to block a punch and had to go to hospital, but apart from that we weren't hurt too bad.

As we got back to the hotel, we were shocked and breathless, and all needed a good night's sleep. I got the key for my room and went up a floor, only to open the door to see a man fully naked at the desk, wanking over his computer. I was obviously shocked, as was he. I turned to Adam and said 'I think there's a naked man in my room, wanking'. Still shocked, i realised I hadn't closed the door fully and heard an accented voice utter gingerly 'Could you close the door, please'. I did, and marched downstairs to sort the whole business out. But the idiot staff couldn't get me a new room for hours. Luckily, by the time Chris and Joe got back from the Hospital we had been given a new room, which did not contain a man wanking.

The next day saw me working for hours on end in a cafe in Stockholm for the next day's interview, which turned out to be a grilling and - as i found out yesterday - was to no avail. I didn't get it. i got down to the last fifteen from 2000 applicants but it wasn't enough. Thankfully my post doesn't finish there though, as I haven't yet said that before that revelation came a weekend at Glastonbury...

Worthy farm hosts the most amazing music festival on earth. I am sure of that having been there for the first time this last Friday, Saturday and Sunday. It just has everything. We were booked to play three gigs, and each of them were special. We started with a stripped down and rocking set at the Green Peace Stage on the Friday. Joe's arm is still in a sling and so there was no cello, but this allowed the punkier side of our music to come out, and I enjoyed that a lot. After the gig we had the rest of the night off, and so took in a bit of Franz Ferdinand (not great), the whole of Dizzee Rascall (AMAZING), and an impromptu show by a sensational African five-piece whose name I'll probably never know.

We had planned to stay in a cottage on the outskirts of the village, but this turned out to be miles away. The walk back at four in the morning then was tough, but worth it, as we felt refreshed and bed-slept for the next day. And what a fucking day it was. A great gig at the Strummerville tent in the Shangri-La was followed by one of the best shows I have ever played, at the Bimble Inn at The Park. People were buzzing, shouting and dancing to our tunes, and even Emmy the Great - who had come along to support Adam - really enjoyed it. Feeling great about life I rushed to the Pyramid stage to watch Amy Winehouse sing Rehab and punch a fan, and then stayed for the full JAY-Z set. It was electrifying. To open, he covered Wonderwall, a sort of fuck you to Oasis' moans about him headlining, and got everyone the chants the words. Having finishing his brit-pop moment, he just said 'I've got one thing to say', and then went straight into '99 Problems'. It was electrifying. The whole show was great, such a spectacle to be amongst 80,000 people watching, and it set me up nicely for the evening. After a bit of partying, Sam and Chris and I set off with the instruments in hand to make the long walk back to our lodgings. It was an incredibly tiring three miles or so, but as we collapsed in the field that lies just before the house, i felt amazing, as if I had earned the beauty that the sun-rise was showing us.

The next day was just purely serene. I walked to the stone-circle as a sort of one-man pilgrimage, and had some excellent thinking time, before getting back to the house just in time to watch the Euro 2008 final. At two am we got home to London, tired and groggy, but sort of full with everything. Oh, but I did walk into my room to find my mate Dave asleep in my bed, which wasn't that nice. He screamed and stuff.