January to March:

Click here for DIARY ENTRY 19/03/08

Click here for DIARY ENTRY 01/03/08

Click here for DIARY ENTRY 09/02/08

Click here for DIARY ENTRY 25/01/08

Click here for DIARY ENTRY 22/01/08

Click here for DIARY ENTRY 04/01/08

Click here for the 2008 Diary Archive

Click here for the Main Diary Archive

DIARY 19/03/08

Nothing shocks me anymore. But it came as a surprise to learn the BBC are dropping Sounds Of The 70s from their schedule. Been eight years, I reckon. I enjoy the research, and it's the closest I've come to having a proper job in 35 years, which hasn't done me any harm. Never say never, and Lewis Carney, who called to deliver the news, promised it hasn't actually been assigned to the annals of BBC History. We agreed that if and when the Beeb fancy re-incarnating the show, he'd get back to me. I'll miss it. Truth is, I sound like a mine of information on-air, but really I cram. Learn it all from copious reference books as I write, and most gets forgotten pretty soon after. Presenting radio is not unlike performing, which comes easy to me; always reaching out to perfect the impression of being relaxed. Recorded last show, for March 27th broadcast, last Friday. Then took in Peter Hall's re-vamp of Noel Coward's The Vortex at The Apollo. All that '20s flapper banter sounds dated, and the lines are not funny now. But it comes clamouring to life in the 3rd, last, act as the tragedy unfolds; as Felicity Kendall's Florence struggles to accept a) that she is not immortal, after all, and b) her errant son Nicky has a serious cocaine habit. Plus, he is gay! That role looks difficult, but Dan Stevens is terrific. For me, Phoebe Nicholls steals it.

Stay overnight to facilitate early arrival at BBC Television Centre in west London Saturday morning. On-air Live with Eamonn Holmes to talk racing in general, Cheltenham Festival in particular. Naturally, the UK tour dates come into discussions. On to Sandown Park, guests of Sunderlands Bookmakers, the sponsors of The Imperial Cup. They are attractively old-fashioned as contemporary bookmakers go, in that they are still a family company, run by the Denshams who started it way back. Sophisticated and generous hosts. Traditional, and personal. Calm in a frenetic Corporate world. I like that. Later in the week, Denman wins the Cheltenham Gold Cup like something very special. Big bets landed. Been losing lately, and that will put the wheels back on the bike, as J.P.McManus would have it.

It's 7 in the morning now. A pair of yellowhammers are pecking at the lawn. Long-tailed tit and robins seem so ordinary now these sensations have arrived. Didn't expect to have them visit. Nuthatch came by last week, fleetingly and nervously. We've got three cats, the mousers, so maybe he knew something.
Will miss researching for my old radio show. Can't deny it. Maybe we'll make a sensational comeback, hour-long slot to boot, later in the year. It's possible. Might come as a surprise, but that's all. Nothing shocks me anymore.

DIARY 01/03/08

New photo shoot with Mike Callow in the north-west. Think maybe we got something quite special this time.
We have decided to print the collected on-line diaries in paperback form for the Spring UK dates, to sell as merchandise.

Maybe one of those pix is the front cover. Got a couple of Mick Rock's from New York to consider, too.
What to call the book?

160 pages going back to 2000, right up to date (well, up to end March, say, when the printer needs final copy).

To Bruges by Eurostar via Brussels for a couple of days for a Press Conference re Hans Peter's "Sebastian" release. It will be released in April, not "La Costa Di Amalfi", which will follow in the summer. TV crews, radio and magazines set up in the lounge bar of the magnificent Hotel De Tuilerieen, where I have a suite overlooking a canal and mediaeval buildings. The old city is astonishingly beautiful. And the canals don't smell, as they often do in other places. Ate at 3-Michelin Star restaurant De Karmeliet. Chef Geert gave us a copy, in English, of his cookery book; and the paintings, his own collection of mostly Flemish impressionism, around the place were as stunning to view close up as his food was to eat. The hotel tipped them off that it was my birthday. Who tipped the hotel off is a mystery to us (my travel agent is in the frame, right up front). A choco "Congratulations" confection came in lieu of sweet which I never order. People are kind. And I'll be back to Bruges, maybe, hopefully, to play a concert with HP next Spring. That'll be an interesting one. A real adventure. Many cards via Comeuppance Ltd. address. Handed to me when I got back. Thank you.

DIARY 09/02/08

Spent Sunday in Biggleswade. Had to have a good reason. Recorded "The Coast Of Amalfi" as a duet with Belgian classical singer Hans Peter Janssens. HP sings it in Italian, I in English with the occasional Italian phrase slipped in. He has a fabulous voice, a deep tenor, close to baritone. Leading man in Les Miserables at the moment - until June. Get there before he ends his run. It's still an amazing show, and HP is perfect. "La Costa Di Amalfi" will be released in April, in Belgium, Holland and Germany. There will be downloads available via iTunes or whatever. HP has recorded "Sebastian", also in Italian. The translation makes it very pretty and deeply romantic. The language is, of course, musical, and my wee song has taken on yet another new guise. In fact, "Sebastian" will be out first, in April they say, with "La Costa....." to come later.

And, on Monday, to the BBC Radio 2 National Folk Awards at The Brewery in London on Monday. Presented Best Original Song award to the mighty Martin Simpson. He is a gifted guitarist and has agreed to work with me on new songs later this year. His "Never Any Good", an irresistibly affecting homage to his late father, is one of the best original/folk songs you could ever hope to hear. Met Kate Rusby and tried to compliment her on the lyrics she has written on some of the tracks on her latest CD, but turned a little gibbering. She is pretty, and talented, and bright. Many highly talented people were in that big room, including Martin Carthy, John Martin, my old friends Steve Knightly and Phil Beer who are Show Of Hands, Graham Coxon, Ade Edmondson, several actors (including Brenda Blethyn who is as charming and chatty as you would have expected), John Paul Jones.....good bash and I was proud to have been asked to give a presentation, make a wee speech (which went a little awry somewhere near the middle as a sort of story veered off at a tangent) and join such folk dignitaries on their biggest night. MC, Mike Harding: stamina and respect all through. Sad to be shown an extraordinarily vituperative criticism of my presentation speech in The Times Arts section soon after. One of their stringers, probably getting about 50 quid for his efforts, an ex-Record Mirror scribe apparently, called Mark Ellen, seems to have a big, bad thing for me. Critics' opprobrium is water off a duck's back, mostly, after all these years, but he got personal, and I spoke respectfully and lovingly that night. We'll meet one day, provided someone points the humourless prig out to me, and I'll ask him to explain himself. He got away with it, avoiding libel, by the skin of his venomous teeth. I have to forgive. But forgetting his vitriol will not be at all easy. My friends just ask, why? Interestingly, only one friend/acquaintance/associate I have met since actually saw the piece. The Times refused to publish my letter in response: too long and containing "intemperate language". Too right, madam. How would you have reacted?

DIARY 25/01/08

I am squeamish. A drop of blood, I can handle. Even watched the German pathologist/anatomist, Dr Gunther, sawing cadavers in half, and then into pieces on TV. Saw him decapitate one. But "saw" is the key word here. They were dead bodies. Cold. Frozen. Felt no pain. I could not stay in a room where, even on TV, a living person was being given the "saw" treatment. They may be sleeping, deep under anaesthetic, but they are alive. And I feel their pain. My wife is not like that. She has the stomach for it. Our friend, Juliet, is a major player at the National Hospital For Neurology And Neurosurgery in London and, she being friends with a surgeon or three, the occasional invitation to sit-in, actually to stand-in and watch from over the surgeon's shoulder during complicated, life-threatening/saving brain surgery, comes our way. It comes our way because Mrs Harley has herself studied Anatomy and Physiology, and they trust her not to faint. She's just home from a six hour operation involving the removal of a tennis ball-sized chunk - yes, tennis ball-sized! - of a man's brain. Epilepsy was his problem. Major problem. And, God willing, now his life will be considerably improved. I know perfectly well the skill involved in such a piece of surgical theatre, and am myself living proof of such skills (orthopaedic, not neurological, of course), but you won't be seeing me in there while they perform. The boys with the white coats would be summoned before the poor patient laid out before me had even had a chance to get settled in ga-ga land.

DIARY 22/01/08

Silverjet to New York. Their dedicated terminal at Luton makes check-in a shoe-in. Bags decanted and croissants warm. Relaxed. Rare these days at airports. Taking your shoes off, and all that kerfuffle. Understandable, of course, but what a palaver. Airside, I'm usually ok. But this private lounge is the way to do it. Chasing MaxJet now for return of the £1300 of my money they held when they went belly-up on Christmas Eve. Were due to depart 16th, so booked tickets for Tom Stoppard's play, "Rock 'n' Roll" for next night, but Silverjet could not carry us until that day, 17th, so sat with heavy lids, barely able to stay awake throughout the entire, very long first act. Truth is, we left at the interval, if only to spare our neighbours in the dress circle any nuisance that may have incurred if sleep had got the better of either of us. Once jet-lag licks in.......just hope I don't bump into Mr Stoppard any time soon. We said hello to each other and a bit more backstage in St Petersburg, and I am a huge fan. I know how the story ends, as I was writing songs, early on, about the Czech uprising against the big Russian bear. Never recorded them, save in poor demo form, but for a while (a long while - the one act is longer than many full plays) I was carried back to young manhood and a time before career lift-off. Next morning, and I mean morning, saw "The Bucket List" movie. Enjoyed it far more than most UK critics. A slight piece, yes, but it has its moments. And it's not very long. That's a big plus with me these days. No movie should run to more than a couple of hours, except maybe The Dee Hunter, or Apocalypse Now, or Gone With The Wind.....but Titanic - I could have lopped a good half-hour off that. Maybe more. Recently watched all three of the Bourne films, in reverse order. Don't ask. Reason for Atlantic crossing: meet with another Steve Martin. This one, my US agent. To plot a short acoustic tour in the autumn. We think maybe 5/6 dates on the east coast, including Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington.....but I can not kid myself. I am not too well-known over there, and selling tickets could prove tough. Will return end summer for interviews etc. to chivvy it all along. And a relaxed, totally informal photo session with Mick Rock, snapping in the Galaxy coffee bar off Union Square. Return on Silverjet is odd: they turn off all the house-lights right after take-off, so you eat dinner by your overhead lamp, which is not sufficient at all. We ask, and they boast "We are known as the all-dark airline" or something equally crass. Why? "So people can sleep the whole way." But look around you, and note the one man, one out of 95 passengers, actually laid out, stretched and kipping. The rest of us want to read and see what we're eating. Maybe the crew get an easier life with the lights down. Good for them, but the punter doesn't come first, no matter how the crew couch their excuses. Helen Reddy.

DIARY 04/01/08

To the BUPA hospital in Brentwood, Essex for full health check. Results astounding. Cholesterol fine, especially considering the amount of wine I consume. Blood pressure normal; all the usual problems associated with men of a certain age apparently being kept at bay. Don't feel I get much exercise when not touring, and then it's all on stage, sweating like melting wax hour upon hour under megawatts of lighting. The exercise bike gets the occasional battering. Maybe 6 or 7 kilometers in a session twice or week, say. I hear that many men are somewhat averse to the prostate test, but I found it no hardship, as the doctor was a pretty Italian woman, no more than 30 years old. Then she told me off over the wine consumption, suggesting that a glass and a half a day/night was best if a man is to maintain good health. More like a bottle and a half, most nights, I said. The lecture, never patronising, but pretty stern, that followed gave cause for a little consideration, and I have been trying to keep to the one bottle - that's only, what, 5 or 6 glasses for heaven's sake.....hardly makes me a lush. But it goes down so easily once you start. So I've been trying to delay the start, and to stop, go to bed, a little earlier. I'd never take alcohol to the bedroom; conscience would never permit. Just a good book: Steve Martin's autobiography is making me laugh out loud, and the memories are good, as I saw his Live act in the mid-70s, at the beginning of his stand-up success. Was in Las Vegas. He was support act to the Aussie woman who sang "Angie Baby". It'll come to me.....brain cells burnt from all the Chardonnay and claret, I suppose. Martin was hilarious. The Brits in the audience at the MGM Grand hotel, that means the 9 of us on a Capitol Records shindig out of Los Angeles (the singer was one of their acts) were near to collapse at his balloon animal gags and stories of ill-treatment towards his own ageing mother. Everyone should be familiar with most of that stuff by now, but at the time, when fresh, it was original and wild. "Wild and crazy guy", that was his Live album. Hilarious. Still can't think of that singer's name. Hope she doesn't read other people's on-line diaries. Feel this would insult her. It'll come to me.......Happy new year.