Watching the First Night of The Proms and thinking how brilliant those players are. OK, it’s the BBC Symphony Orchestra, so it’s going to be top-notch. But then it hits me: I play with two classically trained musicians, James and Barry, who improvise and swing like jazzers and blues men of old. Our acoustic trio brings us all great pleasure. Then I remember: I played with 24 of those classicos. Again, at Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. And a 12-piece Classical choir. And what a team they were!

Worthing Pavilion, end of the pier: what a good time. Tiny (180 seats), but full of cool, respectful people and we played with a great sound and soulful feeling. Barry and James thought it a musically special experience. We’ll be back. I have grown a penchant for smaller venues for the Acoustic Trio, unusual venues, where I believe we will sell out to an enthusiastic audience, even if the ticket price has to be relatively high (costs ain’t low).

I was a little on tenterhooks for several days as the countdown began for Yarm and Holmfirth. The welcome those sold-out, packed crowds gave me was pretty moving. I needn’t have worried. But it really is best for any performer to feel an edge. Complacency is the enemy. The high-backed stool with its footrest proved perfect. Came from the John Lewis store. It lives normally in a Guest bedroom in our house. We’ve ordered another, just so I’m set up comfortably until the wound heals completely.

There’s nothing better than a surprise. Mrs Harley kept from me on my birthday, last Tuesday, the knowledge that daughter-in-law Lieze was going to pay a visit with wee Cameron. Surprise? Mega-thrill, actually. Sudden, unannounced visit by the grandchild. If you’ve got one, you’ll understand instinctively how I felt. I was reading and writing on my PC when the study door slowly opened, and I needed a long look. It was the welly-boots that convinced me. They had come a 90-minute drive, with snow on the way, and I just found it all so noble and kind of Lieze. The boy had fun in the woods, and helped tip ice off the canvas cover of my row-boat, up by the big pond.

On Thursday evening, I parked at my friend’s house to visit for a meeting and strolled through his front door like everything was quite normal. How your world can be turned on its head in a second’s flash!

I went to a Les McKeown’s Bay City Rollers gig in Holmfirth recently. It’s true, I did. And here’s Les and me backstage at the Picturedrome before the show. My good friend, Judy, was a huge fan in the 70s. Wore the tartan as a teenager. And her husband, my friend Mike, didn’t fancy it one bit. So I said I’d organise things. Les and I socialised a little at the end of the 70s and early 80s in Los Angeles and London, so he was quite happy for us to visit backstage. And it was Judy’s great moment: her Mohammed Ali moment. Her Bob Dylan moment. She met Les. Her teenage idol. And Les was as nice as could be to her. Judy now has her own small gallery of pix with Les. It’s good to make people happy, isn’t it…

Will sing a couple of tracks with Steve Norman’s band (including my guitarist Paul Cuddeford) at the Holborn Pizza Express on October 7th. Only asked him for a pair of Guest tickets, which he said was no problem – then he talked me into performing. Singing for my supper? Yep. And that’s fine. Steve N is one of the great musicians and people of our business. And he’s my friend.

Advance party on site at Glastonbury. Everyone gets a wristband!

Seems a long time since Chelsea, yet at the same time…….anyway, I liked that venue. Small (550 capacity) but it had everything. Seemed user-friendly. For the performers, it was near-perfect. Then to Holmfirth. Quite a different kettle. Big space. Big noise and a Fan Convention, too. Stewart’s quiz was a stinker. I would have to Google myself all over the place to get more than 50% of the answers right. I’d like to know how many correct answers the winner managed. Do tell, Stewart. And did the wee collection of AAA Passes we sent go down well? I wish I could have been more generous, but I am not a big hoarder of my own career’s memorabilia.

What a year that was. The list of high-profile performers’ deaths seemed never-ending, beginning almost twelve months back with the shattering realisation that Bowie had gone, and the dreadful shock of losing George Michael on Christmas Day capping it.