So, my spare glasses appear to be cutting violently into the sides of my head and cutting off the vital blood supply to my scalp. How I'll maintain my healthy head of hair under these circumstances is unclear. I've attempted to gently bend the specs so as to mould them around my enormous skull, but to no avail. I've thought about getting a bit more violent with them, but with my current run of luck they'll probably snap into two neat pieces and I'll have to wander around the office asking people if they have any sellotape. And no-one will have any sellotape, but someone will have some Pritt Stick, which I'll try and use to stick them together, and end up looking incredibly foolish. Why do I always predict the worst?

I played it safe last night and stayed in my flat, moving around very slowly and carefully, and although my flatmate wasn't in I took to making loud honking noises whenever I approached a corner, lest he speed around it balancing a bowful of boiling hot minestrone soup on his index finger, which would inevitably end up landing upside my head. No such event occurred, and I took to finishing off demos for the forthcoming Free French album.

The closing track is a 4-minute slow burner called “The Scales”, which considers – using amateurish poetry – the to and fro inequalities in relationships when you clearly need the other person more than they need you, only for it to swing back again a few days later. The recording of vocals can sound odd to the casual passer-by, who hears the headphone wearing singer (me) intoning meaningful lyrics without any instrumental accompaniment. I performed a heart-rending version of the tune, including such soppy lines as “I want to say I love you, so I love you is what I'll say”, and removed my headphones to find that my flatmate, a notoriously unsentimental p*ss-taker (albeit a friendly one) had arrived home during the take. I felt embarrassed. I called down the hallway. “Hello.” He called back. “Yeah, hi.” “I hope you're enjoying my over-sentimental poofy-boy hour,” I ventured. “Yes,” he said, charitably.