A rare midweek entry given that, it being a rather grey and uninspiring Friday morning here at work, my thoughts are less on this afternoon’s transmittal meeting and more on the gig, to whit (a) why am I putting myself through this appalling ordeal, (b) will the A & R men of Europe converge upon us (somewhat unlikely, yes) and (c) would we benefit from some kind of hilarious / arch costume, to project us into the NME's 50 great bands who look exactly like The White Stripes list? And how shall I perfect my Detroit twang? Ah well, never mind. That said, I can't decide what to wear. Is this the ultimate evidence of the shallow nature of pop; that it somehow matters more that I consider my clothing than get round to buying that set of new strings I need? No, it has more to do (I think) with the fact that i find the idea of myself on stage, playing guitar and singing, utterly unlikely and I'm trying to make it more plausible. Positioning myself outside myself, thinking "what would he wear if he was on stage". Ah.