Monday 30th

*insert picture of Leni pointing gruffly at you whilst wearing a ridiculous hat*

I have had an idea. To execute this idea, I need your help.

I need musicians of all shapes and sizes, and that includes singers for those of you who don't play an instrument. Looking for a bunch of people to be available for probably half a day, here in Derby (preferably, though we'll see what offers I get). It'll be fun and I'll supply some kind of delicious food.

If you, or someone you know, might be interested, get in touch.

Friday 27th

I've been in London (and later, Kent) since last Wednesday. Got home in the early hours of the morning (having almost fallen asleep at the wheel due to a combination of stress and my own ridiculous impulsiveness) and have spent the last couple of days in a frantically lethargic state. Yes, everything's a bit oxymoronic around here.

I've been desperate to tell you the truth for the last week. I just wanted to get everything out Into The World in some kind of great cleansing gesture and just be done with it. The problem with the internet, of course, is that it lets you do that. But once it's done, it's forever. That concerns me, particularly about things like video blogging. Watching all these clips people on youtube somehow manage to dig up, video lasts forever.

I'm taking some time to make some decisions. They are important decisions. I need to work out where I am. I think that's probably a lot more important than knowing where I'm going. I feel like everything needs to be cleaned and tidied. A lot of me feels like I need to not be here. Decisions, you see.

I know I'm not being very specific.

When I need to make decisions like these, I turn to a friend. Usually, I'd say probably 90% of the time, this is a friend I've never met. This time around, it was Mr E. I don't even know how I found out about his autobiography, because I'm certain I didn't know about it when I set off on the trip, but I sure as hell did before I got back. I don't know why I thought it would help me. Something about the book, holding it in my hands having found a single copy in a bookshop I'd stumbled across, made me feel like maybe I could work this all out. Before I'd even read it. I finished it this morning. I'll let you know.

Monday 16th

I've been really knackered the last couple of days. On Friday I quite literally ran around London pretty much all day (think I did 9 or 10 miles carrying a bag that weighed a little under 2 stone) going from meeting to meeting. Halfway through I got a call from BBC Radio Derby wanting to schedule an interview for the next morning. Fine, fine, no problem. Except that I missed the last fast train home and didn't get back til 3am.

Somehow managed to be intelligible during the interview and afterwards, got some things I needed in town, came home and had "a quick sit down just for five minute before I do some more work" and woke up at 6pm. Whoops. Man, my muscles are sore.

Looking forward to the gig in London this Thursday. Have arranged some other stuff around it so I think I'll be in London for a good few days. Lots to do before then.

Monday 2nd

Very big gap in blogging, I realise. I've not been at all well. Fever at it's worst was up around 102 and it's taking me a lot longer than I'd like to shake the damn thing off. Having one last day in bed today and then I am determined to get on with life. My main worry is that my voice will fail again like it did last Saturday (my apologies, the people of Glossop). Sexy phlegm is one thing, rhythmic croaking is another. Took a couple of days for me to regain a semblance of normal speaking. Sigh.

The gig in Glossop, other than unfortunate instrument failure, was pretty much awesome. A friend of mine accompanied me for the (supposedly) 98 mile round trip. I say supposedly because we fail at navigation. We somehow managed to get to the venue on time, following two u turns, three mountains and the help of a police officer at a crash scene. We then totally failed to come back to Derby afterwards, somehow ending up in Sheffield. The moral of the story is this: when some dumbfuck breaks into your car and seemingly steals nothing, check to see if your GPS's charger is still in the glovebox.

In other news, there are so many remix requests coming in now that I'm thinking the remixes may need their own myspace page, or even a little release of their own one day. Maybe in double 12inch format, a la Postal Service. I also, annoyingly, had to call off the trip to Sound City because I was running a silly temperature and hallucinating all over the place. Liverpool, you shall just have to have me over some other time.