I knew there was something deeply suspect about that already ground, boot polish coloured coffee you sent from the Nam!!!!!!!

If you can’t read the fuzzy print below, it says:

“Coffee doesnít have to be organic to be tasty. I spent a recent holiday in Vietnam miming a weasel with tummy ache, hoping to find some chon, coffee made from beans eaten and then, erm, ejected, by weasels. Sounds gross, but itís rich, super-strong, weirdly chocolatey and deserving of the Truly Scrumptious seal of approval. Weasel coffee, about £14.95, from Edible (www.edible.com) and Selfridges; 0870 837 7377″

So the wwoofing experience gets better as you go along. Or maybe it was third time lucky.

Autumn has set in here, with gloomy days. We called in at Lolo and Mike’s when in London. They’re thinking of buying a flat.

Mmm. Little news … enjoy the glaciers … avoid Hamish!

Yes, indeed! By half time I was checking out cake hat recipes. England were never convincing. I mean, have they even got a back row? It never seemed to function; whereas the Welsh backs were electric. As were the French.

As you say, though: anyone but the Australians! On present form, it looks like the French.

This was everyone peering at the Balti curry I cooked on Michou’s birthday.

This was us eating it.

Liv’s crud bat. Formidable, in the right hand.

Liv’s soapstone elephant. A year and a half in the making.

I remember this pool as if it was yesterday.

We went to this show with James and Louise. James and I were familiar with all of Cale’s stuff except Hobosapiens (his recent CD) which neither of us had heard. The ladies ‘knew’ Hallelujah and that was about it.

The setting was small, intimate, theatre sized, in a converted church. Cale dressed in white the first half, black the second. He played a lot of new songs, which sounded okay, strongly melodic, arresting lyrically; but I found it hard to properly appreciate what I was hearing for the first time. His versions of familiar songs were either good (Leaving it up to you, Fear, Cable Hogue), great (Hallulujah, Chinese Envoy, E is missing, Ship of Fools, Thoughtless Kind, Close Watch), or poor (Andulacia, Paris 1919). There were probably others I’ve forgotten. The best by far for me was Chinese Envoy. Haunting. I would have travelled twice the distance just to hear him sing that.

There was general awe at Cale’s sheer stage presence and amazement that he was in his sixties. As Louise admitted, if I had said he was 35 she would have had no difficulty believing me. Michou felt he had a ‘hard’ face; not someone to meet on a dark night; but I thought I saw his vulnerable side.

Personally, I preferred it when Cale played acoustic guitar, alone; or the band was muted; as in the two encores, Close Watch and Thoughtless Kind. There were some truly great moments; but there was a bit too much loud ‘rock’ for me. Having said that, Cale’s been touring alone for years with just a guitar and piano so he has every reason for wanting to branch out.

Having never seen him live before (James saw him at Oxford, during Cale’s masked, ‘punk’ days) I’m planning to catch him again at Brighton in December. I’ll make sure I’ve heard Hobosapiens about a hundred times first, though. Maybe I’ll ring Chris Newman to see if he would be interested in going. Jacques called in last night, having been to see ‘Attila the Stockbroker’ – an angry, ranting poet/musician – at some underground club in Worthing! On the strength of this, I’ve lent him my tape of Paris 1919.

Overall, I thought it was a great performance, full of energy, with some lovely touches, marred only by excessive volume and my lack of familiarity with the songs, from someone who is a true original. There’s simply no one remotely like John Cale. I’m sure when I hear him again in a couple of months I’ll appreciate that even more. Mama’s even talking about coming with me, again!