My arrival is so delayed that I reach the venue with some of the audience, which is rather crap, really.

There follows an extended period of attempting to assemble the gear (I put together the bass amp and plug the guitar into my Acoustic DI, then am told by the sound man that I should plug both straight into the PA, however it seems to be less than optimally possible to have guitar and bass and piano playing at the same time, in particular the piano is non-apparant. We seem to get it all together, though).

Then, a bit late, we start - first Lucy Rathbone performing standards and show tunes in various characters, then The Speech Painter, then me. I pop outside to tune up, but of course it's visible-breath cold outside, and hot under the lights so I get the chance for what I refer to as "elementary physics demonstration". The tuning settles down eventually. I play The Things You Get, Mr Wrong, the newish one I played at The Old Coffee House and (a request) Sensitive Boy to finish. As usual hugely enjoyable.

Short break (during which we establish that the ideal setup is the one I first thought of - bass into the amp and guitar through the acoustic DI). As usual it's a request show which throws up some unusual ones (Faust's a Singer for example, which I don't think I've ever done live before) and go on every late.

I sell a bunch of CDs, with a promise of a free upgrade to the 24 bit version should it become available (that is to say when I find the time and the masters at the same juncture).

Previously I've done Tinderbox gigs with the classical, but since I have to go straight off to the Purple Turtle for a Joan gig afterwards am experimenting with the Godin/VG88 tonight. Sadly, it wasn't an entirely successful experiment - the patches I've written sound very tinny through the small hi fi speakers (to my ears, anyway, but then lots of stuff sounds tinny to me these days), and it was quite difficult to co-ordinate with something over the other side of the room. That said, I don't think I play badly, but I do notice that the Cafe empties more than usually quickly when I start playing. So I don't think I'll try that again in a hurry.

I distract myself by concentrating on the voice - trying to position it in my mouth and not letting it fall down into my throat. I also become aware that I have a tendency to want to sing with my head over on one side, which causes a certain amount of tension in my neck. Unsurprisingly.

I get to the Old Coffee House at around 8:00, and it's already shaping up to be a quiet evening - Kath is there, and a couple of floor performers, a poet and a singer. last time it was packed, apparantly. So the Peacock Effect strikes again; I preemptively empty rooms. Hurrah!

I sit and twiddle on the guitar as Kath gets the room ready. Still no sign of people, really, but the other acts arrive (Steve Dowsett and The Children) then Ann Dalton (who I haven't seen for ages) turns up bringing three people with here, and Dave Russell appears and so we have if not a roomful, then certainly an audience as long as not too many people try to perform at one time.

So there are several floorspots - enough that Kath can alternate singers and poets, and then one of Ann's friends reads a couple of Sufi (I think - I'm guesssing and may be completely wrong, but they seemed Sufi, or at least Sufish), then there's a break, then me.

It goes quite well, really. I start with The Things You Get, which Ann had perticularly requested, then most of the rest of the set is as yet unrecorded stuff: Unison, Mr Wrong, 100 Horses (there's a stifled round of applause when I get through the noodly bit of that unscathed, and I'm so pleased with myself that I mess up the next, perfectly straighforward, bit), then I try the long intense and as yet untitled slow one out on a listening audience and it goes quite well. I finish up with Comforting Lie. I enjoyed that and would like to do it again. That's probably the best way, eh.

Following me is Steve, playing songs from his new album - crafted political pop, as long as he doesn't mind being reduced to three words.

And after him, The Children, playing electrically (!), with matching Behringer amps. Most people (apart from me, I suppose) mention the late PJ Fahy who died around this time four years ago, and who ran one of his famous evenings in this very room a long, long time ago (he also used to run something in the room that later housed the VAC at what became Moriarty's and is now something else altogether in Islington).

During the Children's set, Kath passes me a note to say that the standing up thing is an improvement and I tend to agree.

Oh, and Dave Russell sells me a CD of him intoning over a techno backing, just to add another layer to the evening's fineness.

I get to the Bedford at 5:30, blunder into the small bar (apparantly exclusively a haunt of career drinkers who have achieved levels of intoxication that even I would have found it difficult to reach by closing time) and then the main bar to get the side door opened. Phil and Janet are already in attendance, so we set up, test the gear (VG-88 sounds good, but I can't hear it) and I run through a couple of songs with Janet - The Things You Get and River Rise. Then everybody else arrives - Jezzer, Dave, Ed Seyfried, Pete and Geoff, to whom I offer the by now ritual apology for not doing his CDs.

I break the A string during the soundcheck and then have to beg for an appropriate implement to dislodge the ball-end.

At the bar we get a demonstration of why modern public house practices may not be as efficient as might be hoped: Seven (Dave counts them) bar staff and the Landlord trying and failing to achieve what two or three less aesthetically pleasing but perhaps more able staff could have done in years gone by (such as when I used to drink here ten years ago). Largely this problem is because every transaction must be made via the Cash Register, which has achieved the complexity of the Internet, the processing power of Deep Thought and the omnipotence of HAL. Two or three of the bar army are gathered round it at any one time, trying to get it to make some kind of sense. I wouldn't want to suggest that any of these people are intellectually underpowered, because there's no evidence for that on speaking to them, and I suspect you need a degree just to operate the cash register. But it does take me fifteen minutes to get served, however, and when it's his turn it takes Dave the same amount of time. And this is with the bar staff outnumbering the people standing at the bar.

I hate to say it, but the Aussie student of yore (on the Great Overseas Experience) could have done it all in her head singlehandedly and carried on a conversation with her mate at the same time.

But that was before The Cash Register.

Ed kicks off at 8:30 and turns in a fine set (haven't seen him for a while, not since we did those gigs at the Troub a couple of years ago), and then The Speech Painter (Geoff) and then me.

Bit scary - Dave is sightreading it all from my charts. It's the "from my charts" bit that's unnerving, and with good reason, since on Little Games I've managed to put the wrong chords under the bit that is, of course, the most difficult to sing. Consequently I lurch into Rex Harrison song-speaking and hope that I can get back to the tune afterwards. I can also not hear the guitar, making the solos I'm trying to play a bit experimental. But then, as I say, experimental doesn't necessarily mean that it has to sound like The Soft Machine, even accidentally.

My set comprises: The Things You Get and River Rise with Janet on accordian (River Rise is wonderful for me, because there are suddenly all these dynamics there, bolstered by Dave and Janet), then Little Games with just Dave and me on guitar and then Iodine without the guitar. I love doing it like that and should organise my life to allow me to do it more often. Banter news: a bit on the line dancing upstairs doesn't work, probably because it sounds like something I've been preparing (it isn't, really). Most of it does. Jeays audiences are very nice, really and very forgiving.

The Jeays set rocks and (very possibly) rules, despite the fact that I completely forget the chords for about five songs and can't hear myself (not complaining, because it's my own fault). But it's two encores and a resultant late finish. And of course the lovely round room at the Bedford. The only problem with the room is that there's a piano player in the main bar, so the performers are occasionally competing with The Long and Winding Road and other songs of a similar tempo and demographic.

It's definitely the nicest gig I've had for a while. Well, it's the only gig I've had for a while, but you know what I mean. I try to be as relaxed as possible (and I'm sure that the irrigation helps too, thanks Mark Baxter with your tips for Rock 'n' Roll singers). Joan, Alastair and Aiden turn out (which is nice) but Joan and Alastair have to jet off (I intended to take a break, but by the time I noticed the, uh, time, it was already 8:30 and too late to stop). I petered out rather at the end, but still it was more fun than previous even. And at a couple of points everybody ran out of conversation at the same time, giving the illusion that they were listening, which was nice.