The sun has come out, but I can take a hint.

Get up in plenty of time for the Messaien, but sit on sofa staring into space until it’s too late to go. Now determine to go to all the coffee-houses I can to leave fliers for next Tuesdays’ gig. The rain, however is bucketing. I go out with my umbrella to start my coffee-house quest. Buy papers. All the nearby cafes are packed – Saturday morning, and pouring with rain, of course that’s where people are. They’re not stupid, like some people.

I return to the flat to read the papers. Someone has left a chicken outside the front door – dead, plucked, possibly gibletted. Akimbo. Is it some kind of warning or threat – a local hibernian voudou, perhaps? Maybe someone was trying to post it through the letter-box. Perfectly good chicken, apart from the lying-on-the-pavement thing. Not so desperate for chicken that I’ll claim it. Leave it lying there for time being. Read papers – still no review in the Herald for Tuesday‘s show. Am beginning to worry that I wasn’t even good enough for a review (The Herald’s reviews are unstarred, so a poor review doesn’t have the salutary effect that a one-star Scotsman review does).

Venture out again and get as far as a second hand bookshop, where I acquire some jazz theory books, a dictionary of music (10p, but I got it for free) and a Carl Hiaasen book to put in my pocket (for those times when I need something to read). Wander around town in the torrential rain. All the cafes are full, and I can’t be bothered to rub steaming shoulders right now. Return the the flat (chicken still there) and watch teen tv (with the benefit of an episode of Daria) and try out ideas from the theory books. Repair upstairs and carry on woodshedding.

The sun has come out, but I can take a hint. Stay inside.

On leaving to go to the gig, discover that the chicken has disappeared as mysteriously as it arrived.

Forty people in tonight – nice to have a good crowd. Amongst them are Mervyn Stutter and a couple of loyal geordie Jeays fans. Drink with them after the gig. On the way back to the flat, meet Rob Adams on North Bridge. Apparantly there will be a review in on Monday or Tuesday, and it will not be disastrous. Somewhat relieved.

I receive an e-mail from my sister admonishing me for not updating the website. Remedy that.