holy moses, my spinning head..

I was honestly going to write about the new record today, list all the tour dates and give the spiel about how awesome it's going to be.

I was.

Instead, i can't. My brain is mushy and tender from this bank holiday weekend, so instead of hearing about the new record, you're going to hear about why Oxford is my new favourite place on earth. Sure, it may be picturesque and a city and full of the variety that a town like Reading - where I personally spend my days - lacks, but actually what really swung me was the reckless abandonment at which they threw themselves in Mayday celebrations; fancy dress, bridge jumping, heavy drinking, pubs re-opening at balls o'clock the next morning to allow continued drinking amid fry-ups and complimentary bloody marys..

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, oxford's great. I headed out as a guest of Richard Sanderson to a couple of the Frank Turner oxford residency shows debuting new album material (verdict: pretty fucking sweet), and along the way bumped into all manner of excellent ne'er-do-wells who convinced me that oxford would be a good place to live, and i can't help but agree. Pat from the Young Playthings was out, though I think he might have been slightly alarmed at my Turner fanboy status. TYP have a new record out soon, and this excites me, and Turner in turn talked up the new Future of the Left record vigorously which both made up my mind that this year could be good for records, and that it would be a good idea to get my butt to London for May 26th to see FOTL in action. Meanwhile, I go back to Oxford on the 29th for a gig at the Thirst Lodge, which someone describes as "a bar". At the end of the final night, Ben from Dive Dive tells me he's never heard my stuff but it's okay because he always misses out on the good stuff for ages (slick), and whilst he looks like he'd quite like to make a conversation out of it and I'd like to oblige, I am by now fighting fierce Sambuca-addled dizziness (dizzy) and Richard subsequently joins a surprisingly short list of people who've seen me absolutely, positively wasted once we're out in the open air (fresh), and it dawns on me slowly that food is not something that has been in my vicinity for quite a while (starving).

In preparation for the FOTL shows, and to see whether I feel more at home in Oxford or London (curiously: neither are my home), I head to the capitol city of our fair isle on Sunday to see a whole bunch of people who cancel, and my friend Chloe ("adorable" - Stephen Fry). There's something about warm(ish - we didn't stay outside long) days in the city that trigger a series of romanticisms within my cynical self, and after parting company with Chloe ("adorable" - Stephen Fry), I wander across the city from Kingsway to Covent Garden singing songs to myself that I'm making up as I go along. None of them are any good. None of them will make the next record.

Oh, about that new record..