I’ve just obtained a quote from a bloke called John to remove the revolting plastic ceiling tiles from my living room, skim the ceiling and “make good”: £300. Ambiguous phrase, “make good”. I’m wondering whether they just “make good” the ceiling, or whether “make good” might extend to a few other areas of my flat, and indeed life. I’m currently suffering from embarrassment after spending most of yesterday evening bawling out the company who registered a number of domain names for me a few years ago, for allowing them to elapse. Turns out that they didn’t screw up after all. I emailed them this morning with the subject line “Apologies, I’m an arsehole.” I find that people like that disarming, self-depracating approach. “Pleased to meet you, I’m an arsehole” doesn’t work in quite the same way, though, so steer clear of that one.

What with the domain name panic, I bought another one, rhodri.biz, which now feels slightly redundant. Not sure what to do with it. Maybe it should just feature a big picture of me in a gold lamé suit.

Yesterday I stood in a field near Maidenhead with both my hands on a horse called Johnjo, feeling extremely calm. The experience taught me that horses certainly can play a role in personal development, but the annoying thing is that you can’t really take a horse with you; 3/4 tonne of equine creature can’t be slipped into a handbag or a pocket. I wish I felt as calm by putting both my hands on my knees, but that just makes me feel aroused, you know how it is.

On Tuesday night Jeffrey Lewis played at the Scala, so nearly all of Scritti Politti went down to the venue to offer our support, after he was good enough to support us throughout the recent US dates. We love Jeffrey dearly, and showed our appreciation by all clambering onto the stage and playing a skiffle version of “Robin Hood” after he’d done his fantastic “History Of Rough Trade Records” song. I then climbed offstage in the wrong direction and ended up being separated from everyone else, and an attempt to negotiate with a dim-witted security guard (security! hilarious) led me to the brink of saying “do you know who I am”, which is a dangerous place to be, so I retired to the bar, where I met Tjinder from Cornershop and Jowe Head from the TV Personalities / Swell Maps, two people who I saw fairly regularly about 15 years ago. Tjinder was in a band called the General Havoc, who were proud to be the worst band in Preston, and then surprised us all by ending up on the cover of the NME some 12 months later. Jowe Head will always remain in my mind as the man who sauntered elegantly into a branch of Oxfam, breezed up to the counter and boomed “Yes, I’m interested in your leather waistcoats.”