An odd evening at The Windmill last night. Jeffrey Lewis was playing his last UK show before continuing his mammoth tour on the continent, and he was supported by the TV Personalities. Dan Treacy didn’t seem too happy to be onstage, telling members of the audience to “f*ck off”, particularly if they dared pull out a camera, and with songs regularly falling apart at the 30-second mark. At one point he rounded on one man in particular and screamed “are you GAY?”, at which point I retreated to the other end of the venue. Their set seemed to end in a gentle fade out, with members of the band and audience quietly leaving the area in dribs and drabs. Amazing.

The strange vibe extended into Jeff’s set, with Jack and Jeff engaging in heated bickering over which songs were to be played and on which instruments. All seemed well at the end, however, and I bid farewell having bought a copy of City & Eastern Songs, which I can heartily recommend.

I got home and turned on the cricket, expecting to quietly fall asleep while watching a match meandering gently to a draw, and instead was confronted by England in meltdown, and the distinct possibility that Australia might win a test that was described by David Lloyd two days ago as “unwinnable for Australia”. History should have prompted me to bet on Australia the moment he uttered it, but I didn’t. I fell asleep eventually, and awoke at regular intervals during the night to turn on the TV, mumble “oh shit,” and turn it off again. Needless to say, we lost.

Tonight I planned to go and watch Leo playing at Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club, but I’ve just been blown out by the person I was planning to go with, who has the pretty good excuse of having spent the past few days coughing up blood. “I hope you’ve been to the doctor,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied, “and she says it’s coming from my throat so it’s not as serious as I thought.” Funny how blood emerging from the mouth has grades of seriousness; if it’s your gums, well, that’s pretty normal. If it’s from the back of your throat, take care but don’t panic. If it’s coming up from your digestive tract, ring 999, and if it’s coming up all the way from your feet, ring an undertaker.