I recently attended a benefit night for Andy Martin, imprisoned back in 2007 and recently at the centre of some media attention over the circumstances surrounding his conviction, and now supported by the Ministry of Justice Organisation (MOJO).
These things are always a good excuse to get out and, essentially, get drunk to a good cause, although my eventual agreement to get up and play a few songs did make the night feel a bit like work and less like play for a while, and was only greeted with polite applause in front of a handul of people early in the night anyway. Somehow a terrible picture of me playing ends up in the local paper.
Amongst the vodka, sambuca and, for some reason, tequila, I bumped into fellow songwriter Steve Morano, who proceeded to apologise profusely for the behaviour of a friend at a gig from the previous week. It turned out it was he and his big-mouthed but good-hearted female companion who bore the brunt of my swearfest from the stage. The previous day I'd had a message from Linda saying she wasn't aware of me kicking any balloons at her.
All is forgiven and loose ends tied up. Me and my drinking companion Chloe head to the bar, where someone calls us "adorable".
I think about getting a top hat.