Man On Wire. Unmissable. Stunned for hours, even days. Envy Philippe Petit's great courage and unnatural skills. Am in awe and want to go to New York and bore him with my admiration. For a time I feel slightly obsessed. Must write about it, in a song. Stunned and disheartened, to be honest, as the writing is coming so slowly, but life does go on, so called in a Dowser. Man with rods and a magic touch. Apparently. Hovered his glorified coat-hanger around an acre and a half of our woodland. Found nothing worth reporting. Incredible. There are springs all along the lane out there; all local water was brought by yoke from 50 yards along until the late 50s. There is a well in the cellar of our own house. Will try with the JCB. Want a large pond/small lake to float a boat on. If the Dowser is right, we'll line it. May keep sycamore roots around one side for wildlife. Birds might nest in them. Cut over 100 of them this year. Weed of a tree, but makes good firewood. Now there is light getting in, I will de-ivy the apple trees and get the orchard thriving. Plenty of cookers this year, in spite of overcrowding until we lopped in big style. And a couple of delicious eaters still come good. Intend plucking a batch, eat with breakfast cereal.

Been suffering nasty ear infection. Occurs once every two or three years, and usually I let it run its course. But there were shows to play and I needed my ears fit. Slowly improved over a week on antibiotics, but had to play Weyfest pretty deaf in right ear, with in-ear monitor on the left side for a change. Weyfest - more rain. Torrential again, like in Germany, for most of the day. Relented for our set, though. And before that I took great pleasure watching Mick Green slam his Telecaster with his band The Pirates. Big thrill. Then to my friend Charlie Mann's, who rigged a big marquee on his racing stable land, in Upper Lambourn, for a 50th birthday knees-up. Charlie has full barns, with 60 or so inmates. My 4-year-old hurdler Vacario is in there and he looks fabulous. Ex-German flat racehorse with presence. Entered in a Bumper at Fontwell coming Saturday. If he runs, he may well win. Before that, on Friday, Land Hawk runs at Newmarket. Ran close up fifth in unsuitable heavy ground at Warwick on debut, and again fifth on better ground last week at Yarmouth. The winner is entered and fancied for the 2000 Guineas, so we were not entirely unhappy. Land Hawk will win races. Robbie Gladwell got married to Jules end August. I drink to their happiness. Sang a couple of songs at their reception. No prizes for naming the house-band! Yep, most of the current CR, and why not. Then we played a benefit concert in aid of The National Neurological Hospital. Raised almost £10,000, including complete box office (no Guest tickets were allowed, everybody paid), and stuff auctioned. I put up a used Takemine guitar which had travelled to many places with me, plus a pair of free Guest tickets to a show of ours, soundcheck (why does anyone want to be there?) and dinner after. Made the cute gag that it would include "dinner with the band after the show". Got applause, and I added, "I won't be there, but you can have dinner with...." and strange to say got a laugh. I will be there Gareth Jones. For the two-and-a-half grand you pledged I will even get you a hotel room if you need to travel. And the fearless Wim Jenkins went nearly all the way, as brave an under-bidder as you'd ever find. He got a consolation prize. I am a sucker for good deeds.

Lunch in Cambridge with Paul Horton. Brought with him a specially commissioned painting, The Ark - Greta's birthday present. She was ecstatic. Face lit and glowed. Took phone pic as she tore away covers to expose this original, and zapped it to Paul. I think he was as moved by it all, the pleasure Greta was deriving, as she herself was. Great artist, great man. Kerr celebrated his birthday the next day, in Thailand, on holiday. We have a fair surprise for that young man when he returns. Can hardly wait. Need inspiration. Maybe in The Highlands it will come, as I've said, and that may do it. Been recalling influences from way back. Ice-Cold In Alex. 1958. I was seven. Some of my best friends were just coming into the world. I would not have seen it til mid-60s I guess. But it matters. And Florence: the museums, the museums. Never been, but feel it drawing me. May find somewhere away from the bustle, on the edge of the city, high-rise, as high as can be, to look down onto those beautiful pink and brown tiled roof-tops. Ice-Cold In Alex, warm as toast in Florence. To the cinema for a second go at Man On Wire. It is the best docu-drama ever made and one of the best movies of any genre I have ever seen. The super 8 footage of the planning meetings to plot Philippe Petit's walk between the Twin Towers is amazing. Only the Picturehouse Arts cinemas appear to have screened this masterpiece, but no doubt it'll be available on dvd soon. Everyone with a name should see this film. It is, simply, unmissable. Tout etait prêt, she says. Petit was ready. The world was not. Unmissable. Man On Wire.

SH