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In which rain gets under my clothes, but not under my skin.

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In Somerset, after Watchet Live, we drove to Roopstock in the rain. A small festival/large party for British Heart Foundation. Archie Sylvester was playing too, so as the afternoon rolled by Tim, myself and Archie jammed out tunes on two acoustic guitars while I sat on the end of a weights machine and played the piano.
More people to meet, eat and drink tea with, more yarns to spin and stories to nod to in return.
One of the guys here was the tour manager from the Supertramp and Kate Bush tours, in fact he was the reason we played this event. We’d originally met him in a small pub in North Devon with a refreshingly healthy appetite for live music. Read More

In which we play a gig in an antiques shop, and Will sees the Shard

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Woke up, and the living room was a nightmare, so I closed the door and pretended we don’t have a living room. I jumped in the shower and went across the road for a coffee and a sandwich. They’re used to my bleary eyed requests for life-preserving sustenance.
Jake asked me whether I thought “Alka Seltzer would give me free Alka Seltzer for life if I wrote a jingle for them? That would be the best thing ever…”

We left London in Ophelia and drove down to Watchet Live. Jake was DJing the iPod and we listened to Jeff Wayne’s “War of the worlds” all the way down.
I had to stop driving as I was pretty damn tired after last nights shenanigans. I crashed out on the warm grass in the service station and felt good.

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