I've put an absurd amount of effort into this very brief gig at Water Rats tonight. And I'm going on pretty much as the doors open at about 8.15, to play 5 songs in front of a smattering of people who are only there because they didn't have time to go home and have their tea before coming out. Last night I found myself in the odd position of having to have a rehearsal, in a rehearsal room, on my own. I gently prodded the keys of the electric piano, while in adjoining rooms 3 full bands thrashed away, all sounding like Ikara Colt after receiving a final demand for unpaid council tax. It made a cacophanous din which pretty much drowned me out. Note well: If you're in a string quartet, don't rehearse downstairs at Rooz, Corsham St, London N1. After 2 hours I gave up, handed over £40 – forty! – and wandered down to The Spitz to watch Scarlett's Well.

En route I bought falafel in pitta, which I ate as I walked through the streets of Hoxton, and received disapproving looks from beautifully coiffured 20-somethings who were sauntering down to their overpriced bar of choice. They probably thought I'd got p!ssed up in the afternoon and was now on my 2nd doner kebab to soak it all up. “B-but it's falafel!” I wailed through a mouthful of food, showering them with fragments of chick-pea.

Scarletts Well were brilliant. Fantastically off-kilter, with wonderful songs that seem straightforward but are full of dummy runs and delayed resolutions, played with passion and verve by , , , , a cheery seated bass player, a female singer and Bid, once of the Monochrome Set. I wasn't bored for a second, or oppressed by the staggering heat of that venue, which is unusual. was on particularly fine form, but the highlight was playing a guitar solo with a distortion pedal, which actually made me laugh out loud. Next thing you know, he'll be wearing trainers onstage… The only demerit is awarded to Bid himself, who regularly shattered the spell by swearing loudly at his own inability to remember songs. Thing is, if you keep quiet, people rarely notice. It's something you learn quite early on when playing in bands, so it was surprising to see this glorious elder-statesman of alternative rock make such a boob. But a small complaint in an otherwise delightful evening. Congrats to all concerned.

Oh, and owes me a pint.