Friday night saw The Free French hit the pubs of Islington for a “work outing”. You know, get to know each other a little better, have a few drinks, realise that we don't get on very well, end the night with a session of finger jabbing and barely-veiled threats. In fact it didn't end up like that at all, it ended with me falling asleep on the tube and waking up in Kazakhstan, with the first tube back under the Urals not due for another 6 hours. Annoying.

We started in a new pub called The Mucky Pup, which I'd read about in the new Time Out Pubs & Bars Guide. Having slogged the streets of London to review a few pubs for this very book, I'd got an advance copy; when we got there I waved the book at the landlord to alert him to the review. He was so delighted he gave me a free drink. I pointed out that I didn't actually write the review; he didn't seem bothered. I gestured toward my 4 drinking companions who also hadn't written the review; we received no more free drinks. Fair enough.

Then around the corner to The Island Queen. Susannah, my sister, and more importantly the keyboard player in the band, is doing an MA in something or other, and a module on publicising music via new media. “Quite a few bands are using myspace.com,” said Ant, knowledgably. “Myspace?” asked Susannah. “Yep.” Susannah reached for her notebook, and wrote down “micebass.com”. What a hilarious misunderstanding. No-one has had the presence of mind to register this domain; I suggest someone does immediately, and reaps all the associated rewards.

I'm in something of a lull at the moment. On Ssaturday I had a few moments of relaxation listening to the iPod, and a live track by The Keatons came on. I looked at the screen. “The Faster Car”, it said. (The name of the song.) “Live at Berlin Duncker, 14/5/95. I realised that it was exactly 10 years ago to the day. It was a bad-tempered performance, with minimal applause at our 90-second vignettes plus performance art. The lack of Deutscher interest prompted plummeting levels of morale, which led to Kev, myself and Stephen leaving the band exactly 10 years ago next Thursday. 10 years. God, I feel old. I must achieve something, today, quickly, to offset these feelings of inadequacy. I spent the best years of my life in a Transit van, for chrissakes.