Patchouli oil and old rubber johnnies

Thank God the festival is nearly over. I've started wearing one of those paper face masks that Japanese people wear on the tube to avoid catching pig flu, just to block out the smell of PATCHOULI OIL or worse on the streets. They had Gordon Giltrap at the Western the other night, which sounds like a primitive sort of fishing net, but is in fact the name of an old guitar man from the sixties. I bet it was hard to tell a microphone stand from a zimmer frame on the front row of that gig.

I've been turfed out of my room AGAIN because there's a couple with a baby using it, they aren't too bad actually, the baby's called Wanda and the man gave me a notebook made out of old tyres they bought at the Eden Project yesterday (the notebook, not some old tyres).

There's a bit of an end to end thing going on at the moment, which I imagine is down to the good weather, but there's a story in The Cornishman this morning about some people who went down to Lands End to start their walk or whatever it was to John O'Groats and because there was nobody there they set off anyway. Then, ten days later they get to John O'Groats and knock on the door and say 'We've just walked all the way from Lands End', and nobody believed them. Well surprise, surprise! Not even Michael Palin would expect to get away with that one would he? Anyway this bloke's kicking off because none of his sponsors are paying out. Serves him right.

I'm started using my new notebook to draft my blogs in, then I stopped because it makes my hands smell of old rubber johnnies.