I do so like playing the Vortex. Or did. Or will have done. Anyway, it looks like they'll definitely be moving next year, so this could be the last time I play here and probably is.

I warm up and check that my fingers work in the larder/green room downstairs, then go back up to lurk.

By the time I go on there are a number people in the room but they're all at the back of the room apart from Laura and Phil H, and Rich Barnard who are right at the front.

I kick off with The things you get after which it's all a bit of a blur. But a positive blur. There's some confusion at the end - I'm about to finish, Des suggests doing one more (this is all through the medium of hand gestures) and I play Iodine, which is the right thing to do.

Des is on form throughout the evening and the headliner Caroline Nin is wonderful . By the end of her set, I'd completely forgotten that I was there to perform and had become An Audience Member.

Great stuff.

I arrive at the venue thinking I will be very late but turn out not only to be not late but before the sound guy. I chat to Alison (co-headline), Phil (bass), Andy (tpt) and Dom (drms) who are eating their complimentary meals. I pass on mine until after I've played. Then we go downstairs to meet Charlotte (co-headline) and Dave (ivories) and wait for Sound Guy.

7:30 - no Sound Guy.

8:00 - no Sound Guy.

At something like 8:20 Sound Guy appears. Actually more Sound Gent than Sound Guy. He is sixty-something, very posh and very protective of his system and finds it difficult to understand the needs of the modern electro-acoustic guitar, a development in music technology that I suspect happened while his back was turned.

It looks like trying to reason with him is going to get me nowhere, so I opt for Plan B: just doing what I consider to be necessary.

I enlist the sterling and heroic assistance of Tim who jets me across town to my flat where I pick up my DI box, my SM58 and some cables. We then jet back with just enough time for me to plug everything in and begin (Sound Gent is playing the piano when we arrive, so that sort of explains who he is). Literally, just enough time, so no preparation, no warm up, no water. And with my voice that spells potential disaster. And I appear in a bedraggled state onstage as I'm being announced and rush into playing.

What is interesting about this is that the PotP has operated perfectly well for years, with a number of unspoken paradigms: There are singers, and they are accompanied by Pianists, so all you need, really, is a microphone for the singer and one for the piano and you can retire to the bar. Sometimes there are guitarists, but they have amps, so they take care of themselves. So someone asking to plug his guitar into the PA is obviously either mad or inspired by devils or other malevolent forces. They'll probably not encounter such a thing again, either. What I was asking for doesn't exist in their universe, although the fact that I managed to conjure the seemingly impossible out of thin air didn't faze Sound Gent at all. I don't think anything does - problems appear, then they go away of their own accord and in between one play's Sophisticated Lady.

The set list:

• The Things You Get


• Unison


• Little Games


• The Secret Agent's Dream


• Iodine

Secret Agent's Dream is requested, so I have to play it.

Monitoring is wierd, at least from the point of view of someone who's used to either monitors at his feet or trying to pick up a signal from a big PA - little speakers quite a long way away, so there's a noticeable delay. Also, my voice sounds very thin. I've become so used to the frequencies that big PAs favour that I've tailored my voice to suit, whereas this set-up is designed to be essentially transparent, simply amplifying the voice that's there. Again, another culture clash, but one that really exposes the weakness in my technique (should I really be putting that on my website? Oh, what the hell) - and terribly thin and weedy on the top notes. I need to find more places to play where no PA is used at all, to try and work on that.

Further to that, I see that Charlotte and Alison both sing well back from the mic, whereas I've got into the habit of singing right on the mic, with my lips actually touching it occasionally (ugh!), which is something you get into to cope with hellish, feedbacky PAs.

I lose a lot of the audience quite early, it seems, becoming background music, which is alright. Not their kind of thing, I suppose. The closest I can remember is a gig at a restaurant in Hampstead called La Cucina in 1999 - a dinner audience. I didn't offend them as much as bemuse them. They tune out halfway through Things, which is really not cabaret at all. They're nice enough about it, though.

I'm very aware of not presenting the songs (difficult behind the guitar, and having to be aware of technical things, but not impossible) - I feel bursts of Guitar Craft Face coming on. I should really ask people who know about these things how you do it.

But I do claim my Free Pizza (they have a special menu for musicians - a grubby photocopied A4 sheet, with a cut-down menu of things they're prepared to give to errant musicians. Which is, again, all right, because a free pizza is a free pizza and my free pizza was a four-cheese one.), sitting alone in the restaurant upstairs.

Very interesting in that it presented me with a number of challenges: to work on the voice and not get lazy with the PA, to look for better solutions with the guitar. This is presumably the way that jazz/cabaret venues work - thinking about it, the sound at the Vortex is structured in a similar way, but with monitors, and I've (almost) always had Des to deal with the sound there - and I like the feel of these venues more than most of the rock-type venues. I also need to work on presentation and the Guitar Craft principles of beginning and completion, attention and (particularly) protecting my space: how can I arrange the situation so that it will work for me whatever it is (alright, I can't completely, but you get the idea)?

S.A.D. was requested by Mrs Stewart-Smith, wife of Mr Stewart-Smith whom I never email, and from whom I'm keeping the secret of playing that very song. This is because I'm evil. Just so that we're clear on that point.

Charlotte and Alison rock, by the way, or whatever the cabaret equivalent of rocking is. Favourite moments - C: Pirate Jenny; A: Ladies Who Lunch; C&A: Hmm, not sure. Have to think about that.

In the afternoon I work on acoustic patches on the VG88 prior to the Jeays gig at the Barge this evening. It goes a lot better than it has previously, particularly when I back off the sensitivity of the RMC pickup. So that's how I'll do it until I have another cock-and-bull notion.

This takes a lot longer than I thought it would, so I blag lift from aged P, which allows me to take my nylon-string guitar along for my own set.

I arrive and set up, and we have something of a sound-check (considering the current lack of Jezza in the mix), then I take my guitar up and try to warm up.

As well as the various Jeays audience-members, Denise and Terry have come along, Phil H makes it (straight off the train from Paris!) and has brought along a friend as well (whose name I didn't properly catch, so sorry... if you email me, I'll insert the name later on, if you like).

My set is something of a triumph, if I say so myself. Largely this is to do with the enthusiasm of the audience rather than anything I do. I do falter after about twenty minutes, I notice - I become unfocused and flustered and essay a less-than-perfect version of Secret Agent. This is something I need to work on (the unfocusing rather than the song).

After me, there's a set from Geoff (also very fine and warmly received by the audience) and then a break.

The Jeays set goes very well indeed as well. General vindication for the VG88 setup - the acoustic sounds sound very acoustic, the bass sounds very bassy. I pluck a 12-string patch out of the air for October.

So a grin-tastic evening all round.

Anyway, thence to the venue, where I'm the first to arrive, before the sound man or anyone. First Robb arrives, then the sound guy and we have a painless soundcheck (though it's just two chaps with guitars and vocals each - the sound chap does make it sound very good, though) and sit in the curious backstage area waiting for the audience to come in.

Then the gig. It's sold out, which is jolly cool, I can tell you (and sold out means fifty people - could have been more, as it turns out, because people who would have come to see me didn't because there weren't any tickets left. That isn't a complaint in any way. I don't think i've done anything sold out before).

Almost all "new" (that is to say post-Secret Agent) material. Very nice, too, although I'm aware of the tips of my fingers sweating which make my fingers stick to the strings. A couple of other distractions. I remember all the words to the New One, though, which is nice.

In the interval I meet up with Maude and Elisa, who have come to see me, and Ian, who has probably come to see Robb, but who I'm glad to see anyway. Bit rushed, though, so probably rude to all.

For the second half I sit backstage while Robb performs. The sound really is very good - he's got a sort of "enhanced acoustic" rather than amplified sound. The fact that I can't see anything also adds. Robb's set is excellent - a lot of committed stuff that I can't write but that he does very well and more inspired guitar-twiddling than he'd have you believe. Powerful stuff.

I suppose I rush of a bit quickly at the end - but apart from Robb and Ian I don't really know anybody, and I want to say goodbye to Maude and Elisa before they go off on extended jaunts - Maude to her chap in the South of France and Elisa to her home in Argentina. And I do this. And then I take the bus home.

There's not a lot to do in the evening except a bit of practise. So I do a bit of practise.

Every so often I get a completely lovely one, and this was one of those. No PA (I wonder if that had anything to do with it) and I did two sets sandwiched between three sets by Breathing Space (sans Laura, who's ill in bed - aah!).

Chris Schüler and Rich Barnard came to see me, which was nice and the rest of the room was filled with Breathing Space-heads and... they were lovely. They were quiet, attentive (which isn't the same thing exactly) and warm. There were occasional disrupted spots (I think Russell trying to turn off the lights was one), but on the whole it was a wonderful sea of attention to swim in.

For my first set, I did The Things You Get, Mr Wrong and Unison, then for the second set I started by taking photos of the audience (to follow when I find the camera to computer cable) and then did Little Games, the newish rather agonised one, 100 Horses and finished with Iodine.

Really lovely - and I very much enjoyed Breathing Space's set too, although I read P Moon on their set list (pinned to the wall) as Pink Moon rather than Paper Moon which is, in fact what it is. Perhaps they should consider that as an option.

A curious gig, I have to admit, but not without its pleasures. The gig it most reminded me of was the Prince's Street Bandstand.

They understandably think that The Secret Agent's Dream is called Shh (they wouldn't be the first people to make that mistake), but spell it on their listening post (!) as Shhhh. So way out there.

The set contains a combination of things that are on the CDs (Where Did It All Go Right?, Iodine of course) with newer songs. The highlight for me was the long vitriolic and as yet unnamed ballad.
I have a couple of tables of people I've not yet met who seem to be paying attention, which is nice, and Ann Dalton has turned up, as has Alastair Artingstall, Terry and Denise and Ben appears halfway through.

The most disturbing moment is when a group of people stop at the sales point immediately behind me and discuss the CDs very loudly in Spanish just as I'm trying to play the tricky bit of Mr Wrong. More than occasional dropped notes, but it's not the kind of gig where that sort of thing matters that much.

The fact that it's so spread out (I'm playing to the bulk of the store, with the coffee shop to my left, so I have to turn to look at people), means that the quality of attention (which is there) is dispersed, A very unusual feeling, but one that makes one more inclined to rely on one's own senses rather than relying on the "support" of the audience.

Oh, and the extra noises are interesting - the coffee machine (which reminds me of Joseph at the late lamented Bunjies, who was generally able to punctuate the music with bursts of steam at the most innapropriate times); incomprehensible announcements and the bleeping of the cash registers, which is, as I note, a bit like being heckled by Artoo Deetoo.

It's back at the Battersea Barge, and I manage to get there early this time, arriving at about the same time as Jezzer. We set up - I've brought the Godin/VG combination tonight, which I'm hoping will work. There is some kerfuffle with leads - the sound chap is doubling as the chef, or possibly vice versa, and when Phil plugs his mighty axe in I have to ditch the bass and use the bass patches on the VG. Which is potentially a bit scary. And I'm never sure about the right patches to use for the different numbers, whether the acoustic sounds will work, which is also scary. Oh, hell, it's all a bit scary, let's be honest. That is, in some ways, the point.

I'm on, first, though, doing my tunes. I do the gimmick version of River Rise, which is fun, but I've got the guitar turned up a bit loud. Somewhat distracting.

(Polling select audience members later on suggests that this didn't cause a problem or that they were all too polite or tactful to say anything. To be honest, either way is fine with me.)

Geoff follows, and then, after a break, the Jeays Phenomenon. Almost all new material tonight, which is good, obviously, in one way, but on the other hand means that very little of it can be done on autopilot. Not that I'm suggesting that I ought to do it on autopilot, but... oh, you know.

Anyway, small, cosy, nice audience, nice night. I like the new one that Phil did solo. Late getting home, but then you guessed that.